10108
by SAR132-4
Summary: A serial killer murdering law enforcement officers and their families in Toronto and making them look like murder-suicides. The BAU is called in after more murders are revealed and a member of the SRU personally reaches out to them. NOW COMPLETE.
1. Initiation

**This muse has been bouncing around in my head lately, it's a Flashpoint and Criminal Minds cross over fiction. Kind of sparked when I saw repeat episodes of "To Hell . . ." and then " . . . And Back" and after seeing "Between Heartbeats" for the hundredth time (and crying when Jules got shot and attacking my computer screen in a rabid fangirl craze) it all came together. Also, I just visited Toronto . . . I stood where Sam and Jules kissed! So enjoy this fiction. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing by my laptop and my love of Sam Braddock. Sammy-kins! :D**

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_10-108, the code for officer down, but there is no code for a family murdered. _

_**Toronto, Ontario, Canada 11:51 PM**_

It was night time, a sliver of moon rose over the CN tower and struggled to shine over the lights of Toronto at night. Suburbs spiraled miles out from the city's financial district and gave way to neighborhoods with a maze of streets and cul-de-sacs. Now and then, high rises and multi-story apartment complexes would rise from the suburbia, like solitary trees in a wheat field. Horns honked and cars sped along the Gardiner Expressway, solitary vehicles crawled their way along the smaller roads and through the neighborhoods.

In one such neighborhood, a black sedan pulled up and parked on the side of the road, the driver's face was shrouded in shadow and his passenger was completely hidden. They sat outside, looking into a house with a man, his wife and two children.

"Look at them," the driver scorned, "a murderer like him is unworthy of a happy life."

"Will we strike tonight sir?" the passenger asked, the eagerness almost tangible in his voice.

"We will," the driver answered and took an item out of his pocket, the silver metal of the knife gleamed in the minimal light, "and we will show everyone that murder is wrong, even if you are a cop."

_**Strategic Response Unit (SRU) Headquarters, Don Mills, Toronto, Ontario 6:00 am**_

It didn't matter how old you were, if you were the member of the most elite task force in the police world or even if you had five cups of coffee. Working the night shift sucked and Michelangelo "Spike" Scarlatti just wanted to go home and sleep in his parents basement. His short brown hair was messier than usual and dark bags hung under his eyes.

A hostage situation had deprived him of any and all hopes of getting off the shift early, or even on time. Because after the hostage situation, one had to deal with all the paperwork. There wasn't even a bomb for him to defuse or a wall for him to blow up. It was a man with a gun, holding his ex-wife hostage.

"I hate bad guys," Spike mumbled as he downed another cup of Tim Horton's "Timmies" coffee and filled out yet another form, this time about his use of force in the incident.

Julianna "Jules" Callaghan, the female sniper and rappelling expert, looked up from the stack of her paperwork, "The bad guys hate us too," she said, her shoulder length brown hair was in a French braid, her preferred style of late, she hated it when her ponytail got caught up in the Kevlar vest. She glanced up at the clock, "Wonder how Ed's doing."

Edward "Ed" Lane, a fellow sniper and democratically elected team leader, had used lethal force to end the hostage situation. The Special Investigations Unit was currently interrogating him to make absolutely sure that the situation couldn't have been solved any other way. Given that the guy had fired off a few shots at the police that surrounded him before he was taken down, Ed's case looked pretty good.

As if on cue, the bald sniper, tall and imposing, waltzed into the room with barely a sound.

"Hey Ed, how'd it go?" Jules asked.

"Like they always do," Ed answered and grinned, "They didn't even have a case."

"Nice shot up there," Sam Braddock, the old rookie, stated, his nonchalance and boyish attitude was a reminder that even though he wasn't wearing the rookie badge anymore, he still had quite a bit to learn.

The rookie badge belonged to the other female on the team, Leah Kerns, a previous member of the fire department and replacement for a member Team One lost in a bomb scare, looked up. She was a soft-spoken black who was compassionate, but still could kick ass when she needed too.

Another man walked into the room, he was big, and not just height wise, he had been the man everyone had to drag around during their weekly training sessions. It was said that if you could drag the heaviest man on your team, you could save everyone. He had weighed a hefty two-hundred and fifty pounds, but everyone, even Jules, who was smaller than the rest of the team and half his weight, could drag him.

But his knowledge wasn't in weaponry, bombs, less lethal or hand-to-hand combat. It was in words. He was the crisis negotiator, he was the reason why Ed didn't have to shoot everyone who held a gun. The two bald guys on the team were almost complete opposites. Ed had his rifle, Sergeant Gregory "Sarge" Parker had his words. Ed had a wife and son, Greg was separated, his wife and son living in Texas. But despite them being foils, they were best of friends, they had that unique bond forged by years of working the beat together. Ed was supported by Greg and vice versa.

The last guy on the team was the only man who managed to hold a happy marriage (Ed's marriage was tenuous at best, Jules was committed to her independence and Sam had one night stands), Kevin "Wordy" Wordsworth, he had sandy blond hair in a buzz cut and was the best at hand-to-hand combat. He and his wife, Shelley, had three kids, and she was seven months pregnant with the fourth. He got into this line of work to protect those who couldn't protect themselves, the weak, the children, the women and everyone in between. He was always someone you could rely on.

The team assembled within the conference room that was fitted with an LCD monitor, table that could seat the whole team and some extras and fit a few boxes of reports, Greg got on with the debrief.

"Okay everyone, I know it's been a long night," Greg said calmly, "And we're all tired."

Spike snorted softly and Jules elbowed him from under the table.

"But let's just get this review done with and we can all go home and get some sleep," Greg finished, acting as if he never saw Spike and Jules' interaction, "At zero hundred hours, an armed robber entered the residence of . . ."

A knock at the door interrupted the debrief, an older man with a beard and light brown hair entered, "Sergeant Parker, I'm sorry to interrupt," he said in a slightly nasally voice. Another man entered as well, an African-American with short white hair and glasses, he wore the same uniform as the rest of the officers in the room.

"Inspector Stainton, Commander Holleran" Greg looked up from his report, "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"There's been an . . . incident, regarding Team Three Constable Justin Chandler and his family," Inspector Stainton stated, looking at the African-American.

"What happened?" Wordy spoke up, a puzzled expression on his face, "Did he get in trouble?"

"He was found an hour ago, in his house," Inspector Stainton hated this part, "He was slain, along with his family. Early indications point to a murder-suicide."

"I don't believe it!" Ed shouted standing up, "No way he could do that!"

"Ed," Greg said in a tone that meant for him to watch it.

The rest of the team looked on with a mixture of shock and horror on their faces. Sure the job was tough, it drove strong men to suicide sometimes, but never to murder.

"I assure you, Constable Chandler is innocent until he is proven guilty, I don't want to believe this as much as you guys, but they need to investigate this further," Commander Holleran said, "Doctor Luria is on standby in case you need someone to talk to, until then, return to your debrief. Good job out there last night team."

Obligatory replies of, "Thank you sir," were mumbled all around and Greg looked up, "Okay, does anyone need to add anything to this report? Or can we just send it in?"

"Nothing to add sir," were the various replies, it was so unlike Sarge to brush over a debrief like that, but no one objected.

"Okay then," Greg signed the report, "Go home guys, get some rest, you deserve it."

"Thanks Sarge," the team replied, standing up from their positions around the table.

Sam got changed back into street clothes and waited until the whole team was out of the building, declining invitations to get a breakfast before returning home.

"Samtastic not joining us for breakfast at Timmies?" Jules remarked in surprise, "That's not like you."

"Yeah, I just need to sort something out," Sam replied cryptically, Jules gave him a worried glance before leaving. They were once an item, but the rules of the SRU were strict, never date anyone within your team. Sam shook his head to remove any thoughts of him, Jules and a bed. He walked up to the reception area and to the desk. A sole dispatcher was sitting at the desk, busily typing away at a report.

"Morning Winnie," Sam greeted the young dispatcher with curly black hair and wearing a dark blue uniform.

"Morning Braddock," Winnie greeted, looking up from her report, "I thought you were going out with the team."

"Yeah, I'll join them later," he said, trying not to sound awkward, apparently the Sam Braddock charm wasn't as great as the Greg Parker charm, "I, uh, need you to look something up for me."

"Sure," Winnie concealed her surprise, "What do you need?"

"Can you look up murder-suicides of law enforcement officers with family in the past year?" Sam asked.

"Sure," Winnie said, "What search area?"

"Canada and the United States," Sam had no clue what to look for, he just had a feeling that there was more to this. Chandler had been a great officer, as much as a family guy as Wordy was, there was no way he could have done this in cold blood. And if there was anyone who could prove it, it was his FBI cousin, that was why the United States search was necessary.

"It's going to take some time," Winnie said frowning a bit, "Do you want me to send the results to Sarge?"

"No," Sam said a little too quickly, "Can you keep this between us?"

"No problem," the young dispatcher looked a little suspicious though, the last time an SRU officer had asked for any case file, he was a man on a suicide mission and he shut down headquarters for hours.

"Thanks Winnie, I owe you one," Sam smiled as he left. Maybe he could go to that breakfast after all, the "Mini-Van Express" as the team had called Wordy's old and used mini-van, always had a seat open.

_**Behavioral Analysis Unit Headquarters, Quantico, Virginia - One Week Later**_

Supervisory Special Agent Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, sat at her desk located in an office within the Behavioral Analysis Unit. These people got into the most ruthless of serial killer's minds, always opting to outsmart them rather than relying solely on forensics. It had been a quiet week, once or twice, police chiefs and detectives had called for consults, but the cases were small, something that a preliminary profile could solve. She was glad their shift was almost over, she wanted to get home and see her infant son Henry and boyfriend Will.

A knock at the door caught her attention and JJ looked up, "Prentiss?"

Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss, a tall woman with long black hair and an unusually shaped nose, stood at the door to the office, "JJ, there's someone who wants to see you. Calls himself Sam Braddock, he says it's urgent."

JJ's eyes widened in recognition at the name, "Okay, bring him in."

Emily nodded and left, moments later, Sam walked in, a visitor's badge clipped to his shirt and a large box of what appeared to be files in his arms.

He looked around the respectable office, "Nice place," he commented with a grin on his face, "Hey Jenn, it's been too long."

"Sam, I thought you were on a tour," JJ said, surprise leaking into her voice.

Sam looked down a bit, "Yeah, I, uh, got discharged. I'm in SWAT now, taking out the bad guys in the cool pants."

"'Cool pants'?" JJ asked, confused.

"Sorry, it's the name we call our selves. Strategic Response Unit, we work in Toronto," Sam sombered, "That's the reason why I'm here," he said, unconsciously lifting the box up a bit more, "A week ago, a constable and his family were murdered."

"I don't get where you're going with this Sam," JJ said, "If you haven't noticed, we're the FBI, we don't work in Canada."

"That's what this is for," Sam nodded towards the box in his arms, "Case files of every single murder in the past year, some took place in Buffalo and Rochester, New York. I already talked to the guy in charge on the cases in those towns, they agree something more is going on here."

"Look, Sam, we can't just pack up and go to Toronto, we need an invitation from local law enforcement to investigate," JJ replied.

"I already figured it out," Sam said, he put the box on the floor and handed JJ an envelope, "Three letters inviting you to investigate, two from the detectives in New York and one from the inspector in Toronto."

JJ looked at the letters, finally she said, "Alright, I'll get the team together."

Sam smiled, "Thanks Jenn."

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**How was that for a first chapter? I hope the BAU members were in character, I'm 99% sure the SRU was acting like they should :) (that's the benefit of writing almost exclusively for one fandom). Looks like SAR's spreading her wings ;). That's all from me for now. **


	2. Profile

**I'm impressed by the reception this fiction is getting, I hope those who have seen Criminal Minds but not Flashpoint can understand the characters and vice-versa. I'm trying hard here, input is greatly appreciated. And I'm getting it, so thanks :) **

**Oh, and I'm sorry if I don't get the profiling right . . . I'm not a profiler . . . but Google is a godsend.**

**Now, as your reward xD Chapter 2 of 10-108 (I put a dash between 10 and 108 . . . but fan fiction deleted it) **

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_"Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.__"  
__- Mark Twain_

_**Somewhere in Toronto, Ontario, Canada 7:50 AM (1 week earlier) **_

He washed the red blood off his skin, the hot steam of the shower relaxing tense muscles and clearing the mind. Last night had gone well, very well, but it wasn't enough. Everyone had to atone for their sins, even the great men of law enforcement. His knife sat on the counter, gleaming after he had polished it and scrubbed it clean of the vile blood spilled on it.

Finally, the water lost its red tinge and he stepped out of the shower, drying off with a clean, white towel. He got dressed into a pair of slacks and a button up shirt, after placing the knife, almost reverently, into the drawer from whence it came, he grabbed a brief case and made to leave the house. But a picture caught his eye, he saw his wife, radiant and beaming at the photo, he stood by her, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist.

He reached out slightly with his hand, and traced her lovely jaw line and brushed her cheek, '_Soon sweetie, soon your death will be avenged, and I'll join you,_' he thought as he left, bile rising in his throat as he thought of the cops who killed her. They would pay, they would all pay dearly.

_**BAU Headquarters, Quantico, Virginia (Present Day) 9:00 PM**_

The BAU team had gathered in a conference room, case files sat in front of them and at the head of the table, JJ stood next to a flat screen TV with pictures of all the crime scenes showing. Sam stood in the back of the room, his face serious as he heard the meeting and details about the crimes.

"Everyone," JJ said, calling their attention, and pointing towards the back at Sam, "This is Constable Sam Braddock, he works with the Canadian Strategic Response Unit."

Sam smiled a bit and waved, "Hey," he said.

The team nodded in acknowledgement, but it was apparent they were focused more on the case.

JJ began her presentation as the rest of the team paid close attention, Sam had shut up, he may be a crack shot, but he was a horrible profiler, "Last week, Constable Justin Chandler and his family were murdered in Toronto, Canada, police thought it was a murder-suicide until they found several other cases in Buffalo and Rochester fitting the same MO," she continued, "the wife, Maria Chandler and her two kids, Frank and Elizabeth Chandler, were stabbed three times, once in the chest, and twice in the neck. Each stab wound was enough to be fatal."

"What about Constable Chandler?" Emily asked looking over the case file.

"Constable Chandler had one clean cut across his throat, his tactical knife was in his hand. The police assumed it was a murder suicide, until they did a bit more digging and found out that there were more cases like these," JJ said.

"How many more cases?" SSA Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner asked his chiseled face framed by dark hair and accentuated by even darker eyes. Sam glanced at the stoic face of the Unit Chief, he wondered if the man ever cracked a smile. He felt the urge to say some horrid joke to the agent to see if he'd laugh.

"In the last year, there have been six cases, occurring every 2 months," JJ answered, "Garcia's looking into records for the past five years."

"How do they know that these officers didn't just snap?" SSA Derek Morgan asked, as a an ex-officer of the Chicago PD, he knew only too well the repercussions of essentially being a public executioner. And being FBI agent wasn't exactly a clean hands, clean conscience job either.

Sam bit back a thousand and one mean and spiteful comments that he could say to the man's face, thankfully, SSA Doctor Spencer Reid cut in before Sam could open his mouth.

"Actually, while suicides in law enforcement is more prevalent then dying in the line of duty, murder-suicides are exceedingly rare," the brown haired man said. Sam could tell he wasn't tactful in the social department, but easily made up for any short-comings in the brain power, "Also, most suicides are with service weapons, and not with knives like we see here."

Sam breathed a mental sigh of relief, Chandler was in the clear it seemed.

"Any signs of forced entry?" SSA Dave Rossi, a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair, his beard was carefully pruned and trimmed. Sam had noticed he had been the most quiet, seemingly drawing conclusions on his own, but not yet sharing with the team.

"No, the front door was unlocked and the alarm system deactivated," JJ answered.

Sam frowned, Chandler was anal about security, the guy never left without checking to make sure his locker was locked and everything secured safely inside. Almost every cop was like that, given what they had seen every day as a reminder of bad security.

"Well," Reid began, "The wounds suggest someone with enough knowledge of the human anatomy to kill in one strike, the next two seemed to be put in for good measure."

"The killings are efficient," Morgan continued, "our UnSub may be ex-military."

Hotch glanced over at JJ, "What of the RCMP? Will they allow us to investigate in their jurisdiction."

JJ looked to Sam, who stepped forward, "The Royal Canadian Mounted Police will support the FBI throughout the investigation," he said, noting that some of the team seemed to have forgotten his presence.

Hotch nodded, this was sufficient enough for him, "Okay, let's gear up, plane leaves in thirty," he stood up, it was a cue that the meaning was over. They were ready to go.

Sam couldn't have felt more relieved, he waited in the room for everyone to leave except for JJ who was clearing up the files.

"Thanks again Jen," Sam smiled, "Maybe when this is all over, we can get a coffee, catch up on old times."

JJ couldn't help but smile back at her cousin, "Maybe."

*****

The rest of the team had gathered in the "bull pen", the main area where most of the team had their offices. It was on a regular day that they'd be delving into the minds of some of the worst serial killers for the educational purpose, to distinguish warning signs and possible ways of prevention. Now they grabbed their service weapons and car keys, readying themselves for the new case ready to hit them. Gearing up meant arming themselves and grabbing a "go bag", a pack with basic provisions and clothing to last them through a case.

"So, I wonder who that 'Sam Braddock' was," Morgan said as he holstered his Glock 17 side arm.

"JJ seemed pretty close to him," Reid noted, "Could be a family member or close friend."

Emily frowned, "He seemed to be distancing himself from the briefing, he didn't say a single word after it began. He stood in the back and was still the whole time."

"His dress was also plain, nothing out of the norm, he could be ex-military," Reid mentioned, "the posture and the way he walks seems to support that."

Just then, Hotch walked by and gave them a look, it plainly said "I can only hope you are talking about the case."

The conversation ended, the bags were grabbed and their minds prepped for another case. Analyzing the horrors that humans can and will do.

**BAU's Gulfstream G-V (Plane) - 10:00 pm**

The team and Sam sat in the business jet. The BAU looked over the cases, Sam looked out the window, having no real profiling experience (he'd much rather shoot the guy then and there), he considered himself a hindrance. Still, his ears were trained on the conversation happening only ten feet away.

"The UnSub's method is stabbing, why?" Morgan said, "There's a law enforcement officer inside the house, they would have their service weapon on them, so why go with a knife? Why not a gun?"

"Could be a personal motive for the UnSub, he wants to get close to the victims," Reid stated, "he doesn't want to use a gun."

"But why risk getting shot?" Emily asked, "There were no signs that any of the victims were restrained in anyway, so how did the UnSub kill the victims without being shot?"

"And why kill everyone in the same room?" Rossi wondered, glancing thoughtfully at the case file, "Most home invaders separate the men from the women and children, it keeps them from planning anything."

Hotch checked his watch, they were 30 minutes away from the airport, "Alright, Morgan, Prentiss and Rossi, when we get there, check out the crime scenes, I want to know more about how the UnSub carries out his crime. JJ, keep a tight lid on this, I don't want the UnSub to know about the FBI investigating this case, he may escalate. Reid, you and I are going over victimology, Sam, I want you to help us."

Sam looked up, his ice blue eyes blazing, "Yes sir," he replied.

The plane soon passed over Toronto, lowering towards the ground, Sam saw the CN tower, lit up beautifully with lighting to warn aircraft of the large structure and for the symbol that Canada wasn't all brush and moose.

He also managed to get a glimpse of City Hall, before it disappeared behind a skyscraper, he felt a pang of something close to uneasiness as he glanced at that place again. Two years ago, Petar Tomasic had grabbed a sniper rifle and stalked City Hall, shooting three cops, killing one and injuring the two others severely. Jules had been one of those cops, she had been out of commission for weeks. Sam had killed Petar after the man held a gun to Ed's head. Ed was his target all along, it was a revenge scheme brilliantly planned out, but in the end, the SRU ended up on top.

Now another man threatened the lives of the SRU and the family members associated, Sam frowned, he hadn't expected them to be called heroes and adorned at a parade. He hadn't expected any amount of praise, actually, he expected no praise at all, but he didn't think people would be driven to murder over this. Now a good buddy of his was dead and more of his friends were in danger.

The plane touched down in Toronto Pearson International Airport, the plane coming to a graceful halt and taxiing for about two minutes before being allowed at a gate. Airport security had already heard of their arrival and allowed the FBI agents and SRU officer through without any complaint.

**Outside SRU Headquarters, Toronto, Ontario, Canada 11:00 pm**

"Hey JC," a familiar voice called out in the dark parking lot, Jules turned around to see a stocky man holding a dark blue police uniform and walking in regular street clothes.

Jules looked at the man, confused for a second, then her eyes widened in recognition, "Chris!"

Chris Callaghan grinned, "So my little sis finally recognizes me, or should I call her the esteemed Constable Callaghan?" He mock saluted.

Jules hit him lightly on the shoulder, "Don't call me that," she laughed, "It's Jules now."

"Still, you got into the cool pants, I knew you could do it," Chris grinned, "So how's the cool pants life?"

"Fine," Jules nodded, "What about you? You have kids now, right?" God, it had been too long since she talked to Chris. He was busy with his own life, and now it all caught up with them.

Chris beamed, "Been married twenty years, just joined the force here, forgot to tell you we moved."

"So what are you doing here?" Jules glanced at him confused, "Unless you just got into the SRU."

"No," Chris said, uneasy, "I shot someone today, it was a gang banger, he shot my partner. I just got cleared by the SIU, and I decided to head to the SRU since it's right next door," he looked down, "I wanted to pay my respects to Constable Chandler."

"That's nice of you," Jules smiled, "He was a nice guy, great partner. How's your guy doing?"

Chris knew she was referring to his buddy who got shot in the line of duty, "It's okay, the vest caught it, and well, you know what that feels like. It's going to hurt like hell for a few days, but he'll be fine."

Jules grinned, she knew what that felt like, but at least it was the vest and not skin, "So, how are the kids?"

"They're great, one fifteen year old daughter," Chris mentioned, "She's been having the regular teen troubles."

"Yeah?" Jules asked, shivering slightly from the autumn breeze that had kicked up, "Wanna talk about it?" She may not have kids, but she definitely had experience with teenagers. She had jumped off a building with one for crying out loud.

"Doctors say it's depression," Chris looked a little downcast, "It's hard some days, easier some others. C'mon, it's getting chilly out here, want to get a drink?"

"Timmies or The Brass?" Jules asked, naming the number one coffee supplier in Toronto and the favorite police bar, known simply as "The Brass".

"Gonna have to go with Timmies sis," Chris said meekly, "My wife doesn't like it when I come home late on a beer buzz, got to set a good example for the child."

"Absolutely," Jules grinned, "You've changed in the past few years," she said as she got into the driver's side of her Jeep.

"Look who's talking," Chris smirked as he got into the passenger's seat, "I barely recognized you, if you hadn't of stayed so small, I'd have missed you all together."

Jules laughed and playfully punched Chris on the arm, "Still haven't lost your baby fat Chubby Chris."

Chris feigned offense, "I work out!"

Jules smiled and pulled out of the parking lot, "Sure you do Chris . . . sure you do . . ."

*****

Just outside the parking lot, a black sedan waited on the side of the road, the two men waited in the car, one training his binoculars on the disappearing Jeep.

"What do we do now sir?" the passenger asked.

The man lowered his binoculars, "We wait, until they're alone, and then we strike."

"Excellent sir," the passenger grinned and the car pulled out of the shoulder, following at a respectable distance.

* * *

**DUN DUN DUUUUNNNN!!!!! -ominous music bursts forth- Who's gonna get it? Jules or Chris (an OC)? **

**Btw, I had no clue about the popular cop bars in Toronto (only the popular COLLEGE bars . . .) so sorry, I had to create my own. But hey, it's fiction! (not often I use that excuse . . . ) **


	3. Death

**Sorry for not updating during the weekend(s) . . . I got a cold, and I finally am not sounding like a goose being choked by a foghorn. But, I'm updating now though! :D (I also had a plot hole that needed to be filled)**

**And another liberty of fiction . . . I'm changing around the police HQ . . . now it's right next to the SRU and SIU. **

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_Revenge proves its own executioner._ - John Ford

_**Toronto Police Headquarters, Don Mills, Toronto, Ontario, Canada - 12:00 am **_

Inspector Stainton had received the call, the cavalry was here, but it wasn't the SRU this time, it was the FBI. The police station bustled, officers and inspectors alike rushing around to file reports, and investigate crimes from petty theft to murder. Stainton sipped the station's staple drink, coffee, an eager rookie, hoping to brown nose his way to the top, had graciously given him a refill from Timmies.

He grimaced, he had left the coffee out too long, and now it was a cold and slimy mess. Still, it had caffeine which was something he really needed at the moment. A knock at the office door snapped him out of the gruesome reports on his desk. At the top lay Constable Chandler's file.

"Stainton," a detective stood at the door, "The feds are here."

"Thanks Donovan," Stainton nodded and stood up, straightening out his suit and following the junior detective out the door.

The bull pen was bustling with activity as the agents entered, Stainton walked up to meet the agents who just walked in.

"Hello you must be Inspector Stainton," JJ approached Stainton and offered her hand, "I'm Supervisory Special Agent Jareau, this is SSA Hotchner, SSA Prentiss, SSA Morgan, SSA Rossi and Doctor Reid."

Stainton nodded as he shook hands with JJ and everyone on the team, "Yep, and if Constable Braddock hasn't already told you, the Mounties and Toronto Police are fully cooperating with you to put this son of a bitch behind bars."

JJ had heard those words spoken many times before, she didn't need to be an FBI profiler to understand the sense of revenge many officers felt when one of their own was murdered, especially brutally and framed for a crime they didn't commit. Inspector Stainton led them to a conference room, all the while filling them in.

"We've got extra patrols on the streets near officer houses, but until we know why this guy's killing, we can't expend our force," Stainton entered the room, steeling himself for the crime scene photos of one of his own, laying on the floor in his own blood, surrounded by family that was also murdered.

Hotch nodded for Prentiss, Morgan and Rossi to get a move on and check out the crime scene, which they left immediately after the order.

_**1587 Eagle Rd, Toronto, ON M8Z 4H4, Home of Constable Justin Chandler, 1:30 am**_

Detective Donovan had allowed them into the house, he stood back and looked at the crime scene once again, even without the bodies of his friend and the family, it still effected him the same.

Donovan stood near the door, looking on with slight interest as the profilers began their investigation.

"All four bodies were found in the living room, no sign of restraints or drugs used to incapacitate them," Emily said out loud while examining the room.

Derek chimed in, "That makes no sense, in home invasions, the women and children are separated from the men to prevent any attempts at an organized resistance. So why kill them all in the same room? Especially since one of the victims is a police officer with training."

"Because the UnSub wanted the killings to look like a murder-suicide," Rossi said as he glanced over at the crime scene photos once more, "there was nothing taken and only one thing damaged," he looked up, "the photograph of the father."

"So the rage was directed at the father, but why multiple stab wounds on the other victims and only one single slash to the neck on the father?" Derek looked at the photo of the damaged portrait, it was of Justin Chandler, beaming at the camera as he graduated from the police academy, he was in his uniform.

"So that the UnSub would feel satisfaction in seeing the public view this man as a villain, not a hero," the sudden realization dawned upon Emily, "He wanted it to look like Constable Chandler killed his own family and then killed himself."

"But why didn't he fight back?" Derek asked.

"His kids and wife were probably used as leverage," Rossi mentioned, "If he tried to fight back, his family would be killed."

"He most likely was killed first," Derek mused, "To stop the biggest threat, and then he moved on."

The rest of the group nodded and moved deeper into the crime scene, Detective Donovan shuddered, to think such a psychopath was running loose on the streets was sickening to say the least.

_**Toronto Police Headquarters, Don Mills, Toronto, Ontario, Canada - 2:00 am **_

Reid and Hotch had been going over the victimology for over an hour, trying to see, other than that the victims were police officers and their families, what else connected them. Penelope Garcia had been a godsend of information, viewing files and unlocking secrets only the Guru of Technology could.

The Empress of Information worked in a dark room back in Quantico with several monitors and computers, enabling her to work on several tasks at once, whether it be hacking into a database or performing a simple cross reference. Small figurines of cheerful topics and ideas surrounded her, reminding her to smile at least once in a while, even when faced with the cold hard realities of her job.

Currently, she worked feverishly on finding the one link that connected every murdered man together.

Sam was also doing his best to help out with any information on Justin he had. But he wasn't alone, as soon as Team Three heard of the investigation, they piled into the police headquarters, waiting for news and ready to divulge any information.

"What was Constable Chandler like?" Hotch asked Team Three Constable Donna Sabine.

Donna's serious face darkened a slight bit, "He was a great guy, he worked as a sniper, and was usually Sierra One."

"Sierra One?" Hotch questioned, raising an eyebrow.

The blonde haired officer nodded, "Yeah, it's the primary sniper on calls, the one who usually takes the kill shot. He took the job seriously and did have some trouble with it, we all do. Being a public executioner isn't exactly the happiest job on the planet."

Reid was also interviewing a team member, Constable Jake Evans, he was Justin's closest friend on the team, and a team member with a family.

"Were there any threats made against Constable Chandler?" Reid looked up at Jake as they sat in the conference room.

"Justin was a good man, but he always had some sort of threat made against him because of what he did for a living," Jake looked down a bit, seemed to collect himself, and then continued, "A week before he was killed, he shot a hostage taker in a domestic. PALE practically jumped down his throat in that, picketed SRU for a few days after-wards."

"Pale?" Reid asked.

"It's a new group against law enforcement, it stands for People Against Law Enforcement," the disgust was apparent on Jake's face, he said more to himself, "As if we need another reason to feel unsafe."

"Has this group caused trouble before?" Reid made a mental note to ask Garcia about PALE later.

"No, but they formed after the City Hall Sniper incident," Jake frowned, "as if the threat to law enforcement wasn't enough in _that_ incident."

"What happened then?"

"Some Croatian called Petar Tomasic grabbed a sniper rifle, went after Constable Ed Lane in Team One, ended up almost killing Constable Jules Callaghan instead. Constable Braddock shot him, killed the son of a bitch before he could kill anyone else," Jake sighed, "First that, now this."

---

The team met up a few minutes later in the conference room, sharing gathered information. A rain had started to fall, and the cold water pounded against the window. Sam looked out the window, Stainton had told him to go home, it really wasn't his case. But he stayed around the station anyway, having nowhere nice to go to. His apartment leaked bad and despite numerous calls to the land lord, it never got fixed.

He flinched as the rain pounded against the window in a gust of cold wind, being raised in the desert for most of his life, rain was a spectacle he wasn't entirely used to. The sounds of conversation drifted into his ears.

Rossi spoke up, "The UnSub first incapacitates the officer in the family, then comes after the civilians."

"How did he get in?" Hotch questioned.

"No signs of forced entry. It could be that our victim knew his attacker," Morgan said, "He let them in."

"Yeah, but in the middle of the night?" Emily asked.

They were interrupted by Hotch's cell phone ringing, "It's Garcia," he said as he put it on speaker, "Garcia, what have you got?"

Garcia smiled to herself as she recounted the fruits of her labor, "I found the connecting point in all of your victims. They all have shot armed subjects in the last month."

Sam started, Jules and Ed had both been involved in shootings within that time period. Why would the bastard want to kill Jules? Or Ed for that matter? Jules had saved their lives from a crazy guy with an automatic. And Ed, he only shot as a last resort.

Shit.

He made his way into the hall, nearly bowling over Donovan, who looked after the ex-military cop and shrugged. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed his cell phone and pressed three on speed dial.

The phone rang . . . and rang . . . and . . .

"Sam, what the hell are you calling me at three am for?" Ed's grouchy and groggy voice came over the phone.

"Sorry," Sam answered quickly, with a rush of relief, "I was meaning to call an army buddy, must have dialed the wrong number," he knew it was against some big rule to tell anyone about an ongoing investigation so he

Ed just grumbled something incoherent that sounded like, "Damn rookie," and the line went dead.

Now, to call Jules . . .

_**SRU Headquarters, Don Mills, Toronto, Ontario, Canada - 3:15 am**_

Donna Sabine and the rest of team three minus Chandler sat at the table in the conference room, they had just gotten back from being questioned by the FBI about their murdered colleague. Commander Holleran regretted not giving them any more time off, but crime never stopped, and a team down in the SRU meant more work for everyone else.

"Rolie," Jake Evans called, getting the team sergeant's attention, "How's the replacement going?"

Everyone at the table knew what he meant, Sergeant Roland "Rolie" Cray, a big man with blonde hair in a buzz cut and possibly the tallest guy in team three, looked up, "Got it down to a few people," he replied, "You up for the rest of the night Jake?"

"Yeah," Jake replied, "I can't shirk off my duties to the public," he looked down a bit, "Justin would have wanted me to stay."

"You sure?" Donna asked, "It's bound to be another quiet night."

Just as she said that, the alarm blared out with Winnie's voice permeating the air, "Team Three, Hot Call. Gear up, shots fired at 604 Woolwick Drive, Scarborough."

Donna looked downcast, "I stand corrected," she said sourly as she joined the rest of the group in getting ready for the call.

Three black Chevy Suburbans screamed out of the head quarters, Donna driving in the lead with Jake, Antony "Tony" Cole in the middle with William "Double" Williams, and finally, James White and Sergeant Cray in the back of the caravan.

"Stealth approach," Rolie cautioned into the headset, "It's three am, the subject's probably tired and ready to jump at any noise. Barricaded subjects get jumpy around flashing lights and sirens."

As soon as they entered the neighborhood, they turned off their sirens and lights and drove slowly up the street, finally stopping in front of the house.

"Looks quiet, sure we haven't been swatted Rolie?" Jake asked as he took in the dark windows and exterior, he was alluding to a prank pulled by people with no lives. They called 911 and reported that some sort of crime had taken place so that the police would come in on unsuspecting civilians.

"It looks too quiet," came Rolie's answer, "And the neighbors are up," he looked towards the house across the street which had their lights on and a man stood out on the porch with a phone in their hand and talking to an officer who had arrived earlier.

"Let's go," Rolie said, "Double, talk to the neighbor, I want to know who owns this house, when the shots were fired and whether he saw anyone leave or enter the premises. Jake, Tony and Donna, enter in through front, I'll take the shield and go in through the back. Everyone copy?"

"Copy," everyone answered.

William ran up to the neighbor's house, "Sir, I'm Constable Williams with the police, can I ask you a few questions?"

Jake, Donna and Tony ran to the door, Donna taking the submachine gun and Jake aiming his glock, both stayed to the side as Tony hefted a battering ram and prepared to strike. Rolie had to be both an active member and a negotiator in this situation, he hoped Holleran wouldn't get angry about the megaphone getting a bit muddy.

"This is the police Strategic Response Unit," he called out into the megaphone, hiding behind his shield, "Come out immediately with your hands in the air. We don't want to hurt you."

No answer. Rolie shook his head and donned his helmet as he dropped the megaphone to the ground and drew his glock, "Okay guys, we're going in."

"Copy," Donna said, she nodded to Jake.

Jake began counting down, "Five, four, three, two . . . GO!"

Tony rammed the hunk of metal against the door and it flew open, giving way in splinters of wood. Simultaneously, Rolie rushed the back door, he found it ajar. His already fast heartbeat quickened.

Separate, yet loud, shouts of, "Police!" rang through the house.

"Someone hit the lights!" Donna called as she struggled to get a clear view of the room they were standing in. She had a powerful flashlight, but it still wasn't good enough, and there was a smell she crinkled her nose. It was metallic, like rusted iron, the room was dead quiet.

Suddenly the room lit up as Tony flipped the light switch, it took a second for the scene to sink in.

"Oh god," Jake choked, "Not again."

Rolie entered, "Clear the rest of the house," he said, "Let's stay focused."

"Wait!" Donna yelled, kneeling down by a woman with brown hair, "She's still alive. Get EMS!"

Jake nodded and spoke into the radio, "Winnie," he said, "Get EMS here and . . ." he looked at the scene once more, "Get the FBI here too, tell them there's been another murder."

_**Toronto Police Headquarters, Don Mills, Toronto, Ontario, Canada - 3:15 am**_

"C'mon, pick up the phone, pick up the phone," Sam said desperately, he paced the corridor as the phone kept ringing.

Finally, someone picked up, "This better be pretty damn important Braddock!"

"Jules?" Sam let go of the breath he was holding.

"Yes," Jules' voice snapped, "Do you know the time?"

Sam instantly reddened, "Uh, yeah, it's three fifteen."

"Are you drunk, incapacitated or staring down the barrel of a gun right now?" the voice asked with a hint of exasperation.

Sam was dumbfounded, mainly by lack of sleep, "What?"

"Just answer the damn question," the killing intent was practically tangible.

The word, "No," was barely out of his mouth when the line clicked and went dead. Jules had hung up. He reminded himself never to cross a tired Jules late at night, ever.

_**4834 Eglinton Avenue, Toronto, ON M4P 1A6 (Jules Callaghan Residence) - 3:30 am**_

Damn Sam Braddock. Curse him for eternity and throw away the key. And curse her ability to never sleep when interrupted. Damn it.

Jules groggily made her way to the couch, she collapsed onto it as she tried to fall asleep once more. She had stayed up past midnight, talking to Chris, and now she got only two hours of sleep until a certain _somebody _decided to call her at three am. She felt a small nudge on her leg and she saw Bailey, her husky, looking up at her with questioning eyes.

"That phone call wake you up too?" Jules asked scratching Bailey's ears. 

She took out a home improvement magazine and began reading it, wondering what color she should paint the master bedroom. She was just beginning to feel tired when the shrill ringing of her cell phone startled her out of her stupor. She glared at the offending piece of technology and picked it up.

"Hello?" she asked grumpily.

Rolie's voice, surrounded by a symphony of sirens and the rush of rain, came over the phone, "Jules?"

"Yes," Jules answered, a nervous edge creeping into her voice, Team Three was on call, wasn't it?

"There's been an incident regarding your brother, Christopher . . . he listed you as next of kin," Rolie said, "I'm sorry Jules."

* * *

**HAH! It's NOT Jules!!!! -dances- But still, it's Chris T_T And I liked the guy too. This chapter was Hell to write, it was too long. -checks page numbers- eight pages with over three thousand words. WOW. **

**Btw, names and addresses are generated by this awesome random generator that I can't post the link on because fanfiction's a moron. **


	4. Life

**So . . . nothing really to add . . . I watched "An American Crime" featuring Ellen Page and I thought that was the saddest and most tragic movie I have ever seen (that doesn't even begin to describe it). I have a hatred of anyone named Gertrude now . . .**

**The quote's in Latin, I own nothing so don't sue me yadda yadda. **

* * *

_At vindicta bonum vita jucundius ipsa nempe hoc indocti. [Revenge is sweeter than life itself. So think fools.] - _Juvenal (Decimus Junius Juvenal)

_**4834 Eglinton Avenue, Toronto, ON (Jules Callaghan Residence) - 3:45 am**_

"What?" Jules asked, "Where are you? I'm coming."

Rolie gave her the address, and Jules practically broke her neck getting dressed, she was 15 minutes away if she followed the traffic laws and patterns. Hell, who gave a fuck, it was an emergency, she'd be there in five. Bailey glanced, confused at her master, her head tilted to the side as Jules ran around

She didn't realize it was raining until she got outside and the torrential downpour drenched her to the bone. She didn't care, she got into her Jeep, slammed the door and floored it.

Mercifully, everyone was off the roads, either sopping drunk in some bar, or asleep. It was a miracle there were no cops on the road and that she didn't get into an accident on the wet roads. She made it there in ten minutes, the flashing lights and sirens boring into her brain.

An officer approached her as she got to the house, "Excuse me ma'am," he said, "this is a crime scene."

"My brother's in there!" Jules yelled, trying to get past the officer, "I'm a cop!"

"Jules," Rolie called out from the gaggle of officers and now FBI agents, he went onto the other side of the tape, "You can't go in there."

"Where's Chris? What happened?" Jules demanded, a sinking feeling in her stomach weighed her down, she glared at Rolie.

Rolie took a breath, he hated giving this speech, the news that someone close to them died. He hated giving it to Jules, who once was the invincible and esteemed Constable Callaghan, after she was shot though . . . it changed everything around.

"Jules," Rolie said, looking her straight in the eye, "Chris is dead. I'm sorry. There was a report of shots fired, I don't know what happened yet."

'_C'mon, don't break down here, I've got to be strong in front of the team,_' Jules thought to herself, she steeled herself. Rolie placed a well meaning hand on her shoulder as a choked sob escaped her lips and tears mixed with the pouring rain.

Rolie glanced at the door as a gurney with a teenage girl strapped to it was rolled out. A medic was busy pumping air into an oxygen mask as another one was putting pressure onto a wound. A police officer had held up an umbrella to keep the patient mainly dry.

Jules caught sight of it, "There was a survivor?" she said sharply.

"Yeah, the daughter was found alive," Rolie said, he barely had time to explain before Jules ran up to the ambulance.

Jules looked down on the gaunt and ragged face of the teenage girl as she struggled for her life, "I'm riding along."

The medics nodded and allowed a drenched Jules to board the ambulance, Donna closed both doors, giving a meaningful glance at Jules before the ambulance screamed away.

_**An apartment in Toronto, Ontario, Canada - 4:00 am**_

The place was neat and orderly, everything in its place. In the small bedroom, a man sat sobbing on the edge of the bed. Why was it hard to kill her? She was the spawn of a murderer, a cold and heartless man who had shot someone in cold blood.

She was an infidel, guilty by association. She should suffer the same fate as the murderer, it was what his partner always told him. Was it because she looked like Sarah?

"No, no," he moaned, "Sarah's dead. She's dead because of that damn cop."

But that woman, that likeness to Sarah, the fear in her eyes as he stabbed her. It was too much to bear.

He could only hope there was enough blood in the scene to fool the other man as he had sliced the murder's neck and broke the picture of him.

_**604 Woolwick Drive, Toronto, ON (Chris Callaghan Residence) - 4:00 am **_

The BAU was now in the premises, Team Three having left to debrief and clean up. A gaggle of reporters, flocking like a murder of crows, was in a staging area at the end of the street where the police were struggling to contain the squawking and gabbing crowd of press.

Inspector Stainton turned with mild disgust towards the media frenzy and made a face, "Well, we've got their attention now."

Hotch's face was as serious as anyone had ever seen it, "The UnSub broke his pattern, why?"

"Why? _Why_?!" Detective Donovan exploded, "Because he's a son of a bitch that has no regard for human life! What are we doing waiting around here? I'll knock down every door in the GTA to find that bastard!"

"You won't be able to find him," Rossi mentioned wryly.

Donovan turned on agent with an incredulous expression on his face. Morgan spoke up, "The UnSub is average, he probably is a middle class working man, most likely he works at a security firm."

Stainton rose an eyebrow at that statement, "How do you know that?" he asked gruffly.

"The lack of any sign of forced entry in the previous crime scene indicates that the UnSub had a key or could easily make one," Morgan explained, "The alarm system was also disarmed, meaning that he knew either the code or how to bypass the system."

"The UnSub uses a knife, which is highly unusual given the number of victims," Reid said, "He doesn't want to attract attention to himself, which means he lives a fairly mundane life."

"Then why use the gun? The initial reports were of shots fired," Donovan had cooled down enough to ask.

Emily knelt down to look closer at something, "I might be able to explain that," she spoke up and picked a Glock up from the floor and pulled out the magazine, "Three bullets missing."

"The neighbor reported three shots fired," Stainton remembered from what Rolie had told him.

"Three victims," Donovan shrugged, his dark brown eyes not showing any comprehension, "So?"

Rossi shook his head, "There are no bullet wounds on the victims, but," he paused thoughtfully, "In hunting, three shots fired in the air is a distress signal," he glanced upwards at the ceiling.

Three bullet holes, clustered together, were visible on the pale white of the ceiling, three dark points, staring down at the agents like some ghastly face. Stainton narrowed his eyes,

"Who fired the shots then?" Donovan wondered out loud, a moment later his eyes rested on a family photo of Chris and the teen daughter, hunting.

"The only survivor of the murders," Hotch looked at the photo, his gaze directed on the daughter, "Anna Callaghan."

_**Toronto General Hospital - 200 Elizabeth Street, Toronto, ON, Canada - 5:00 am**_

Jules paced the quiet waiting room of the hospital, hating the scent of industrial strength disinfectant that apparently someone attempted to cover up with Febreeze. It obviously didn't work. She hated hospitals for several reasons, one, they were as cold as Antarctica during the Ice Age, two, they were too bland, too boring for the SRU officer wanting to live on the edge of life and death, finally, they brought back too many memories.

The memory of when she was young and her mother died in front of her in the emergency room as she succumbed to the injuries sustained during a car accident. The memory of going to the emergency room when she was a teenager and she had gotten into a fight with arguably the biggest guy in Alberta, all over a snide comment he made (it wasn't her fault she was overly sensitive to sexist comments), then spending the night in lock up. The memory of being shot by a sniper because she was doing her job and living with Braddock's incessant nursing for months until she finally recovered and had to dump him for the team. The memory of going to the hospital morgue with Spike, the rest of the team and Lou's grieving parents to make absolutely sure the body was his. They only revealed the head but Jules had stiffened and turned away, tears leaking down her face as Wordy, not Sam, patted her back in a gesture of sympathy.

Now she was in the hospital once more, waiting for news on her brother's daughter, her niece, and hoping it was good news. The kid was still in surgery and Jules wanted nothing more than to find a perch near the murderer's house and shoot the bastard so that he'd die a slow and painful death, just like everyone he ever murdered.

"Is there the family of Miss Anna Callaghan?" a doctor stood at the door, a clipboard with charts in his hand. He looked tired but alert.

Jules looked up, "Yeah, that's me."

"Come this way please," the doctor motioned for her to follow him into a more private area of the wing, despite the fact that the waiting room was nearly empty. He stopped in a more or less secluded corridor and began to talk to Jules, "Hello, I'm Dr. Brannon. What is your relation to Anna Callaghan?" He had been told of the situation with Anna's parents and knew that Jules was obviously not the mother.

"I'm her aunt," Jules replied, glancing down at her shoes for a second before asking, "How's she doing?"

"She sustained a stab wound to the upper left quadrant of her stomach, it's fairly shallow. There was also a knife wound on her neck, it barely missed the carotid, if it had hit it, she wouldn't have made it," Doctor Brannon stated, "I expect for her to make a full recovery physically."

"Physically?" Jules rose an eyebrow, she had caught onto the word.

The doctor sighed, "Anna lost her immediate family, the people she really is close to, it will take time to recover from this and the situation is complicated by her depression."

"How long?" she asked.

He shook his head and said, "I'm not sure, it may take a few months or it may be a lifetime. I'm getting the resident psychologist to give me a consult, we may have to admit her to the psychiatric ward for the time being."

Jules exhaled and seemed to collect herself for a second, "So can I see her?"

"We still have her under sedation but you can visit her," Doctor Brannon led her down the corridors in the general ward and into a room. Jules glanced at it, it looked almost exactly like the room she stayed in during her stay only a few years ago. Of course it wasn't the same, hospital rooms always had the same look to them.

There was a sole occupant in the room, Anna lay in bed, a bandage on her neck and the ventilator covering her nose. Jules didn't know the exact word for the thing, she hadn't bothered to learn it. She took a seat in one of the chairs and Doctor Brannon gave her one last piece of news before leaving her.

"We're bringing her out of sedation later today, I'll have a nurse bring you a cot if you need one," he smiled sympathetically and left as Jules nodded.

Jules sat in the quiet hospital room, save for the beeps from the heart monitor and the even breaths from the respirator. Tears ran down her face and quiet sobs shook her body as she succumbed to the grief of losing her brother so soon after a teammate who was more or less like family.

_**Toronto Police Headquarters, Don Mills, Toronto, Ontario, Canada - 7:00 am**_

Hotch sat in the conference room, going over the case file once more, trying to figure out why the UnSub struck again so soon. The pattern he followed suggested he'd strike in two months, not in a week. It was also disconcerting that he left a survivor, the UnSub was organized, a neat freak, he wouldn't leave someone alive and with Constable Callaghan's service weapon in reach. It was the sort of mess up they needed to crack the case wide open but it was at the cost of lives, one of them a cop.

The rest of his team sat with him, it was obvious no one was sleeping until the UnSub was caught. JJ was currently instructing Stainton to release a statement indicating that this was another murder suicide and that the police were wrapping up the investigation. It would keep the UnSub placated until the BAU got some real leads on the case.

Sam Braddock appeared once more at the door, Hotch frowned, the kid had been hanging around the station like a lost puppy. It hadn't escaped his thoughts that he wasn't even in this department, this case wasn't his jurisdiction. Someone willingly attempting to insert himself into the investigation was a red flag for Hotch.

"Sir?" Sam asked, "I think I found something."

Hotch nodded curtly and shared a meaningful glance at the team, being in a room full of profilers did have its perks as the FBI team members filed out of the room, Emily shutting the door behind her as she was the last to leave. Still, the confusion was evident on everyone's face.

Sam raised an eye at the random exit of everyone except him and Hotch, but offered no comment. Hotch began, "Sam, you don't have to help investigate this, this isn't even in your jurisdiction."

"But I want to help," Sam retorted, his ice blue eyes flashing, "I can help."

"You aren't even an investigator, you're a constable and someone trying very hard to insert yourself into the investigation," Hotch said, his voice low and dangerous, "In my line of work, that sounds pretty guilty to me."

"You think I did this?" Sam asked incredulous, "What's my motive? Why do you think I murdered my friends? My teammate's brother?"

Hotch countered, "You're ex-military, you have the trust of everyone since you're a cop, you don't even need to know the security system, they would just let you in."

"I wasn't even there for Constable Chandler's murder," Sam said, "And if you want to know my interest in this investigation? The Eco Bombers."

Hotch raised an eyebrow, "Excuse me?"

"Several months ago two eco-terrorists set bombs all over Toronto, one of them was booby-trapped with a landmine. A buddy of mine stepped on it and ended up getting killed in front of me. Two years ago, a Croatian sniper shot and nearly killed my partner, and he killed a cop. So if you want to know my interest, know that I don't want this to happen again," Sam answered, "Do you want to arrest me for murdering my team mates now?"

Hotch shook his head and Sam took a steadying breath, "I was going to tell you that there was no extended press coverage of Chandler's murder, we kept a tight lid on it, only releasing a statement that a constable was in an accident and was killed. Your profile mentioned that the suspect wanted his work to be publicized as a murder suicide, right?"

Hotch nodded, "Thanks Sam, but understand you aren't to inject yourself in this investigation anymore."

Sam nodded, "Yes sir," he said as he made his way to the door.

"One more thing," the unit chief said, his tone stopping Sam in his tracks, "What is your relation with JJ?"

Sam turned around, "I'm her cousin, I used to visit her in Pennsylvania before I was shipped off to Kandahar."

Hotch nodded and motioned for Sam to leave, the sniper did so gladly, and strode through the bull pen before exiting to the hallway. JJ, having come back from talking to Stainton, rose her eyebrow, "What was that?"

Emily shrugged.

The phone rang at Donovan's desk, he picked it up and after a very brief conversation, he hung up.

"That was the hospital," the detective said, "Anna Callaghan's awake."

* * *

**Yet another lengthy chapter . . . around 2800 words this time. And the teenager's awake, yayyy!! -dances- Poor Jules though . . . but I think that fight with the big Alberta guy deserves a one shot . . . hmm. Possible Spike and Garcia action next chapter, and of course Anna's story. Until then though . . . see ya! **


	5. Interview

**So here's the long awaited 5th chapter of 10108 (and by long awaited, I mean like a week). Unfortunately something happened to me that isn't very happy, my uncle and future physics teacher died this week within hours of each other. So I'm a little sad, sorry if the next chapter doesn't come on time. In better news, I got accepted to this cool summer program at a university and I'm going to study there. :) **

_Revenge is a confession of pain_ - Latin Proverb

Previously . . .

_The phone rang at Donovan's desk, he picked it up and after a very brief conversation, he hung up._

_"That was the hospital," the detective said, "Anna Callaghan's awake."_

_**Toronto Police Headquarters, Don Mills, Toronto, Ontario, Canada - 7:30 am**_

Hotch got the news and ordered Emily and JJ to interview the only survivor, Anna Callaghan, within minutes, they were on the road to the hospital. The Toronto traffic was starting to pick up, making a moderately long journey, just plain long.

"So," Emily began, JJ didn't have to be a profiler to get the tone of her voice. Emily was fishing for information on JJ's life, working with the most prolific serial killers, rapists and just plain whackos of all time can be a drain on the system. The BAU's women were fairly adept at gossiping within their own teams and the whole department was a network of information regarding everything about a person as long as they were willing to divulge (and even when they weren't).

"So . . . what?" JJ asked regardless, it did help to enjoy a bit of privacy within the team, despite the trust issues it may cause in the long run.

Emily glanced over at JJ, a hint of a smile on her face, "So . . . Sam Braddock . . . I know how you look at each other, you're related aren't you?"

Sometimes . . . profilers could be annoying in the way they picked up body language and were able to perceive how the person was related or wasn't related. JJ sighed in defeat, "He's my cousin," she said, "We go back."

"How far?" Emily asked, noting to herself that JJ hadn't even mentioned a cousin, and he wasn't close enough to her to be present at Henry's birth.

"We weren't too close, Sam was the son of a general, so he was often away with his dad in the Middle East or whatever base they decided to ship him off to. But often, he and his parents would come visit East Allegheny in between tours," JJ recalled her memories of the sniper, "We always went to the local bar and had dart throwing competitions. He always won."

"Always?" Emily asked, raising an eyebrow, she had seen the agent at the firing range, crack shot didn't even begin to describe the skill JJ had with guns. If Sam could beat the resident expert on throwing darts at her own game, he wasn't someone to be trifled with.

JJ nodded, "We lost contact shortly after I joined the BAU, he was on tour most of the time and I was on cases. I didn't know he joined the police force until he came to me to present the case."

"Why did he join the police force?" Emily asked, the curiosity was evident, the son of a general giving up a promising military career for the rigors and unglamorous work of a cop working the beat sounded fishy.

The media liaison shrugged, "I haven't been in contact with him for years except for the odd phone call or email. He was pretty busy and he couldn't tell me where he was due to security."

Emily frowned, the thought of Sam leaving the military was a paradox she intended to solve, it got her mind off the rigors of FBI work at least.

Meanwhile, Hotch and the rest of the team were looking into security firm workers who were ex-military. Garcia was working fervently trying to pull up records, it was an issue since the Canadian databases were protected and it would take a while for them to open up for the FBI.

Donovan entered the room with Spike who was currently holding a laptop, "I thought you may need some help with the search, so I got the best in Ontario," the detective announced, "We're still trying to open up the server to you guys, but it's taking a while."

Hotch nodded, "Who are you?" he asked to Spike.

The Italian offered his hand to the agent, "Constable Mike Scarlatti, I'm a tech analyst, bomb technician and demolition expert, all in one. You can call me Spike."

"Do I sense competition over in maple land?" a voice asked over the speaker phone, Spike raised an eyebrow.

"'Maple land'?" he asked, he grinned, "I think I may have to forgive you for getting me up on a Saturday Inspector Donovan. So what's the problem with me doing my job as a technical analyst?"

"I've got it handled," Garcia said, "Even with my handicap, you can't win against my technical skills."

Spike had his laptop already online and ready to go, "Oh you're on," he grinned, "La gara è accesa. Andiamo!" *

Hotch looked questioningly at Rossi, who said, "It's his way of saying, he accepts the challenge."

Hotch could only hope this wouldn't be counterproductive, but he had a feeling that telling them to shut up and work would incite negative results.

Spike's hands were a blur on the keyboard as he began searching while Donovan was saying the parameters. He smirked as windows came up at his will and his laptop kept up with the strain of the intense searching and hacking. He frowned as a slight problem came up, "Looks like the security firm's been doing their research on internet security," he said while looking stumped.

"Can you hack in?" Donovan asked. Somewhere in Quantico, Garcia was sensing easy victory.

"Italians are more than just chefs and olive farmers," Spike answered, his hands were back at moving warp speed, "Just give me a moment, the encryption's not as secure as Deadbolt, but it's up there."

"You sure your laptop can take it?" an officer asked, apparently the race of the technical analysts had caught the attention of the entire squad room, most of the people were now in the doorway, watching the spectacle unfold.

Spike risked a glance at the officer with amused eyes, "What are you kidding? A _normal_ laptop wouldn't be able to handle this, but this is custom built. Babycakes 2.0 works like a charm."

Garcia snorted over the line, "You named your laptop _Babycakes_?"

Spike looked indignant, "And you haven't used terms of endearment for your computers?"

"I'm liking you already," Garcia smirked, she was almost done her search, now to hack that pesky little firewall . . .

"Done," they said at the same time, Spike looked over at the phone in surprise.

Donovan smiled a bit, "Looks like this ended in a tie."

"What do you have?" Hotch asked both Spike and Garcia.

"Bad news," Garcia said on the phone, "30 people in the Toronto area who are ex-military, work in a security firm and moved from the US to here or commute regularly. None of them are in PALE."

"I also cross referenced the search to look for employees with criminal records, every single one of them is clean," Spike said to both Hotch and Donovan.

"Squeakier than clean," Garcia added, "Not even a traffic ticket."

"Which leaves us nowhere," Stainton commented, the frustration evident on his face.

"Let's hope Prentiss and JJ have more for us," Hotch said as the rest of the precinct returned to normal, everyone leaving as the interesting race between the computer geeks ended.

_**Toronto General Hospital - 200 Elizabeth Street, Toronto, ON, Canada - 8:10 am**_

The two FBI agents walked down the halls of the hospital, listening to Doctor Brannon's assessment of Anna's injuries. Canada had privacy laws in effect for healthcare, so he could only tell them the necessary information they needed for reports.

"She still is suffering from the emotional trauma of having her parents killed in front of her," the doctor concluded as they reached the room, "So please try not to stress her out too much."

Jules stood outside the room, dry eyed but looking exhausted, in her hand was a cup of Tim Hortons. She glanced up as she saw the FBI agents approach her and she looked at them with a mix of curiosity and suspiciousness.

"Hi," Emily said, extending her hand, "I'm Agent Prentiss and this is Agent Jareau we're with the FBI."

Jules looked confused as she shook hands, "FBI?"

The two agents nodded, "We need to ask Anna a few questions if that's okay with you." 

Jules nodded and allowed them in the room, Emily had told her to stay outside and though the maternal side of Jules wanted to be in the room and hold her niece's hand, the cop side of her knew that being emotional wouldn't help the situation. Jules stayed in the hallway as the interview was being conducted.

Emily and JJ walked into the hospital room, Anna was sitting in the hospital bed, her brown eyes were sunken and her hair was tangled. She glanced up as the two agents walked into the room.

"Hi Anna," JJ said quietly as they entered the room, "I'm Jennifer Jareau and this is Emily Prentiss, we're with the FBI."

Suspicion crossed over the girl's face, "Why are you in Canada?"

JJ took a deep breath as she sat in the chair next to Anna's bed, Emily stood at the foot of the bed, near the door. The blonde haired agent said, "We believe the person who did this to you and your family also did this to a family in the US."

"We need you to tell us what happened last night," Emily said softly, Anna had averted eye contact with the two agents, studying the sheets that covered her bed.

Anna took a deep breath and began her story . . .

_Anna sat in her room, studying for a test coming up on Monday. She wondered why everyone was so excited about Fridays if it meant Monday was right around the corner. Her dad had been out for most of the night, she saw the news coverage of him shooting the gang banger in Jane and Finch and knew he wouldn't be coming back soon. _

_She fell asleep at ten and woke up five hours later to a knife at her neck, she opened her mouth to scream, only to find that a hand had been clamped over it. _

_"Get up," the figure said, "And don't fight back or scream, if you do, I'll kill your parents." _

_Anna learned from her father that it was best to comply with whatever the suspect said, so she didn't offer resistance. Satisfied that Anna wouldn't fight back, he lead her to the living room and forced her to the ground. Another man stood at the head of the room, he had a knife to her father's neck, it looked like a Bowie Knife. _

_The man held the knife against her father's neck and said, "Is this how you live murderer? You don't deserve a family." _

_The other man stabbed the mother once in the stomach, deep, and in the neck twice. Anna gasped in shock as blood pooled on the floor of the room, she glanced up to see her father's Glock lying on the table and she made a move for it. _

_"No!" both men and the father yelled, the man holding her father hostage glared at the officer._

_"Shut up," he snarled and sliced the father's throat, Anna was forced to the ground once more and she looked up into the attacker's face. _

_He saw her as well and he hesitated, his breath seemingly hitching in his throat as he mouthed a word, Anna didn't know what he said, she couldn't lip read. He choked out, "I'm so sorry Sarah," he looked over at the other man who was busy smashing a photograph. And then he stabbed her once and sliced her neck. _

"I played dead until minutes after they left, the gun was lying on the floor just out of my reach but I managed to grab it and then fired off three shots," Anna said quietly, tears beginning to trace paths down her face, JJ reached out with her hand and rubbed Anna's back in a gesture of comfort, "I guess I passed out then, because next thing I remember, I woke up in the hospital."

"Do you remember what the men looked like?" Emily asked, it was hard to put someone through this whole tragedy once more but they needed the information. Still, Emily's heart went out to the girl who had been through hell.

Anna glanced up at the FBI agent, she nodded, "I won't forget those faces, ever. The guy who held me was tall, about as tall as dad, he had a mustache and graying hair. I think he was around forty or fifty. The guy who . . ." the teen took a deep breath, "uh, the guy who killed my dad was around the same age, he was big, but not as big as the man who held me. He had dark blonde hair and brown eyes, I think I saw a scar on his cheek, but it wasn't light in the house."

"It's okay," JJ said, "You did well," she patted Anna on the back as more tears poured out, Anna could only manage a silent nod.

With a sympathetic smile, the two FBI agents left, Jules looked at them as they exited the room, "Did she tell you anything?"

Emily nodded, "She was a great help," she answered and added, "I'm sorry about your loss."

Jules exhaled in a sigh and nodded as she reentered the room to be with Anna, the teen silently sobbing as she leaned back into the pillows of the hospital bed.

Emily and JJ left the hospital heading back to the black SUV, as soon as they entered the truck, Emily's phone rang. She picked it up, "Yeah, Hotch," she said.

"How did the interview go?" Hotch asked.

"She saw two UnSub's Hotch, both seem to have the same profile," Emily answered.

"You think we're ready to give the profile?"

"I think we're ready to give the profile."

**They're ready to give the profile . . . yeah. So anyone hear of the Yazoo Tornado? Or any of the other 54 naders that touched down during the outbreak -shakes head- sad. **


	6. Taken

**There has been a serious lack of updates on this fiction! Sorry guys! (TinkerPanda especially, thanks for the review!) I guess I'll fill you in on why I haven't updated . . . one: I had my AP/HSA testing, so I needed to cra- I mean study. Two: I did have a pretty long/bad/arduous week and three: well . . . I've been slowly spiraling into the world of storm chasing (no pun intended). ( Go to Tornado Videos .Net . . . look up my pen name on FF and you'll find me)**

**But anyway, here's the 6th chapter of 10108! (Wow, 6 chapters o.o) **

_"Therein lies the defect of revenge: it's all in the anticipation; the thing itself is a pain, not a pleasure; at least the pain is the biggest end of it_._"_ - Mark Twain

_**Toronto Police Headquarters, Don Mills, Toronto, Ontario, Canada - 9:00 am**_

The BAU stood at the front of the room, looking over the police officers in the bull pen as they took their places, some of the more willing men and women sat at the front, the less inclined to believe in the profile sat in the back. Inspector Stainton and Inspector Donovan both sat in the front areas, Stainton opting to sit on a desk while Donovan sat in a chair next to his desk.

Hotch began the profile as soon as he sensed everyone was settled, "We're looking for two UnSubs, both of them male. They see each other as equals and work at the same job, they work at a security firm or alarm company. One or both of them has spent time in the army, probably where they met."

Derek stepped forward, "They prefer to use knives rather than guns, despite the risk of being over powered. This indicates that they don't want to be noticed and would rather remain hidden."

"Then why are they killing in the first place?" an officer piped up from the back of the room.

Reid spoke up as Derek unconsciously took a step back, "The UnSub wants the results his work to be known, not that he did it. He wants these to look like murder suicides perpetrated by the officers in the house, that way his work will be recognized as an evil done by the police, not by him."

Emily continued the profile, "The UnSubs both are in their late forties to early fifties, one has graying hair and a mustache, the other has blonde hair and brown eyes with what looks to be a scar on his cheek. They strike at night in order to stay inconspicuous."

"These UnSubs will try to do anything to prove their innocence, but if they're cornered, they will commit suicide and take anyone down with them," Rossi concluded.

"These men target police officers with families, they may have shot someone in the past month and had the shooting publicized," Hotch spoke up once more.

The police returned to their respective areas as the profile was finished, Spike had been sitting in on the briefing as he hadn't left after the small race with Garcia. His eyes were creased in something not unlike worry and his hands clasped together on the table, propped up by his elbows. He rested his chin on them, and seemed lost in thought.

"Hey," Emily appeared behind the Italian and looked at him closely, "Are you okay?"

Spike glanced up at the agent, "Yeah, I just remembered something, I have a team mate, Ed Lane, he shot someone last shift in a domestic, he got a lot of flak from the press, but just got cleared. I remember seeing a security guy at his house one day, he kind of resembled the guy with the scar on his cheek you were talking about."

"Did you get a name?" Emily asked.

"No," Spike answered, "But I'm just worried about Ed, he could be next."

Emily nodded, "I'll talk to Hotch," she said.

Meanwhile, Hotch was on the phone with Garcia once more, Spike had basically opened the cyber pathway for her to enter the Canadian databases. Hotch instructed her to cross reference the search for the UnSubs to include men fitting the description Anna had provided. The girl even allowed a sketch artist to come in and draw the men who attacked her family.

JJ stood in the same room, she had been with the sketch artist when he made the sketch of Anna's family's killers. The teen's face might as well have been carved out of stone, after breaking down in front of the two FBI agents, she seemed to have collected herself and was determined not to show any emotion.

It didn't work out too well, JJ may not be a profiler, but she knew when someone was trying and failing to repress emotions. Anna may have appeared to be calm and collected, but she was tearing apart on the inside.

Garcia's voice piped up from the speaker phone as she completed her search, "Gold mine," she said, "I've got two employees in the same security company who fit your description."

_**2132 Eglinton Avenue**__**, **__**Toronto**__**,**____**ON**__** - Martel Brother's Security Systems - 9:50 am**_

The man glared at his co-worker in the break room, thank God they were the only ones in the room, he hissed at the man, "That girl, she's still alive!"

The other man looked up from his coffee and raised an eyebrow, "Wait, what?"

"Don't play dumb with me you jackass!" the guy snarled, throwing the newspaper at the other man, "You screwed up!"

The headline read: "Sole Survivor of Murder-Suicide Recovering From Injuries"

The other man read and re-read the paper with wide eyes, "I had no idea she was dead!" he exclaimed, "I could have sworn she wasn't alive."

"Just because she resembles your daughter doesn't mean she is," the first man twitched angrily, "Deal with it."

"Yes sir, tonight after work," the man said, grabbing his work items and leaving.

The first man called out, "Wait, they'll know who we are, they'll be looking for us," he said, "We've got to leave."

"Now?"

"Now."

They both left the break room, bumping into a young intern on the way out, he waved in greeting, "Morning Richard. Morning George," he said, "Any coffee left?"

"Yeah," the first man said suavely, "there's some left, and please, call me Rick."

"Thanks Rick," the intern walked into the break room and disappeared.

George walked over to the boss's office, "Sir, I'm getting a little sick," he said making his voice a bit hoarse, "Must be the bug that's flying around the office. Could I take a few days off?"

The man sitting behind the desk scrutinized George, "You never normally ask for time off," he said suspiciously, "What brought this on?"

"I'm sick sir," George said with his hoarse voice, not even shifting under the man's gaze.

The boss, in a small bit of sympathy, agreed, "Alright, I'll give you a day to get better, I don't want one of my best men to go under due to the flu."

"Thank you sir," George said walking out of the room and sighing in relief. He was off.

The boss looked up a few minutes later to see the secretary standing there, "Mr. Martel, the technician, Richard, just threw up all over his desk, he wants to take a day or so off."

Mr. Martel nodded and sighed, he wondered if it really was the flu that was going around in his office.

Out in the parking lot, George and Rick both walked to their cars, parked next to each other, Rick glared at George, "You're not coming along tonight until you deal with that girl," he said, "You got that?"

"Yes sir," George answered, taken slightly aback, they had killed together, why couldn't they do so now?

Rick stepped into his car and drove off, preparing for his next strike, George was left alone to figure out what to do with Anna. He decided to stop by his apartment to prepare.

_**Toronto General Hospital - 200 Elizabeth Street, Toronto, ON, Canada - 10:30 am**_

Jules sat with a cup of Timmies in hand outside Anna's room once more. Dr. Brannon had been good on his promise in calling a psych consult and Anna was now talking to the man in the room. She had regained her strength fairly quickly, the stab wounds had not been that serious, she could walk around only a little bit though, but she was on the mend.

"Hey kiddo," Jules looked up to see Greg Parker standing there.

"Sarge, what are you doing here?" Jules asked, she had meant to call him, but unless she was suffering some serious memory loss, she hadn't remembered calling him.

Greg held up the newspaper, "When someone with the last name of Callaghan is mentioned in the paper, I tend to think of one of my own officers. Inspector Stainton also filled me in on the situation, I'm sorry Jules," Greg took a seat next to Jules on the hard plastic chairs.

Jules just nodded and fought back the tears, crying in front of her boss was not something she wanted to do on a Saturday morning, no matter what the circumstances. But Greg knew the emotions that flit across her somewhat composed face, he knew Jules like a daughter. With that in mind, he pulled her with his arm into a hug, he rubbed her shoulder as she rested her head against his chest, exhaustion hitting her like a wall.

"It's going to be okay," he said in his fatherly voice, soothing Jules.

The door to Anna's room opened and the psychiatrist exited the room, she smiled at Jules kindly for a second, "May I have a word with you in private Miss Callaghan?"

Greg let go of Jules and she nodded and went into small conference room with the psychiatrist, the doctor sat down and went over her prognosis, "I'm not going to sugar coat my words Miss Callaghan, this is serious. But it's in my professional opinion that Anna won't need to be admitted to our psychiatric ward, but we'll need to keep an eye out on her condition."

"How bad is it?" Jules asked.

"It's hard to tell, depression in teenagers is hard to diagnose, I'm going to run a few blood tests to find any chemical imbalances which are common in people with depression. I know her doctors suggested she may have a depressive illness, but there was no follow up. Still, right now, Anna needs all the support she can get, she lost her parents and she'll feel guilty and angry," the psychiatrist continued, "It's normal in grieving. This incident may cause a depressive episode or worsen a preexisting illness, it's too early to tell right now."

"Alright," Jules said, sighing, "So what can I do to help?"

"Just give her your full support, show that you're there for her, it's all you can do right now," the psychiatrist finished, "If she exhibits any suicidal behavior or says she's thinking about it, take her to the hospital."

Jules nodded and the psychiatrist dismissed her from the room, Jules walked back to the room, Greg looked up, "You should get some sleep," he said, noticing the dark bags under her eyes.

Jules shook her head, "I'm staying here," she said, suppressing a yawn that would more than likely knock her off her feet.

"Jules," Greg said with a voice that didn't offer any room for argument, "That was an order. I requested Inspector Stainton post an officer at Anna's door, you don't have to kill yourself out of exhaustion."

"Sarge I-," Jules started to say.

Greg shook his head, "Go home and get some sleep. I'll call you if anything comes up."

Jules sighed in defeat, she was tired, her body screamed for her to get sleep. Her mind was still awake though and a maternal instinct had awakened inside her. That instinct told her to stay up and beside Anna, to help her through. Her body won out though and the SRU sniper found herself moving to the car in an almost zombie like state.

She drove to her house and Bailey barked, jumping around as Jules opened the front door and staggered into the house. The dog calmed down and followed Jules as she collapsed on the couch. Bailey rested her head on Jules's leg and whined softly. Jules smiled down at the husky and petted her, "Tough day," she said as she scratched the dog behind the ears.

_**Toronto Police Headquarters, Don Mills, Toronto, Ontario, Canada - 9:00 am**_

"JJ, could I talk to you for a moment?" Hotch asked he spied the media liaison in the bull pen.

Confusion flit across JJ's features for a moment before she walked up to Hotch, "What is it?"

"Why didn't you tell me that you and Sam Braddock are related?" the unit chief asked in a reproachful tone. It was obvious he was angry, for good reason though, if it was released to the public that the FBI got involved in a case only because one of the agents had a personal relationship with someone involved, it would be ugly.

"I was but I guess I forgot," JJ said, "We're still investigating this case though, right?"

Hotch nodded, "But next time, tell me if you have a personal relationship with someone who was working the case."

JJ nodded and Hotch said, "Get the rest of the team together, we're going to the security firm."

_**Toronto General Hospital - 200 Elizabeth Street, Toronto, ON, Canada - 11:10 am**_

A rookie officer had been posted at the door to Anna's room, he stood outside and did his best to stay attentive as he wondered why he was stuck on guard duty and not catching a bank robber. Greg had left for his shift on Team One, he gave Jules the day off, leaving the single officer to guard the door.

The officer turned his back on the hall for a moment to tie his shoe, it was probably the stupidest mistake of his life, because at that moment, something grabbed his neck and twisted his head until a dull snap was heard. The policeman didn't even see it coming.

George placed the policeman in the chair next to the door, he almost looked as if he were sleeping. The man walked into Anna's room and saw the teenager, asleep in the bed. He shook the teenager awake.

Anna looked through the haze of pain medications and sleep to see a tall man in a pair of scrubs staring down at her. She thought he looked familiar, very familiar, but due to the pain meds, she couldn't even think coherently.

"Get in the wheel chair," the man said as he pulled it in from the side of the room. "Come on, get in," he said as he pulled out her IV line and took off the oxygen mask, "We don't have much time."

"What?" Anna asked as he forced her in to the chair, he pressed a knife against her side, out of sight but she could feel the tip through the fabric of her hospital gown.

"I'm so sorry," he said as he wheeled her down the corridors, "Just don't make a sound and I won't kill you."


	7. Hostage

**Hi everyone, I'm back. Sorry for the delay but I was experiencing extreme end of the school year burn out and had some medical issues come up. I got surgery on my left ankle, I'm fine :). And now I'm in a summer college program for 3 weeks. I'm learning about weather! **

**Enjoy. Chapter 7 of 10108. **

**!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!**

_"Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoils," - John Milton_

Six Chevy Suburbans screamed down the highway at breakneck speeds, headed towards Martel Brother's Security Systems. Three of them held Team One sans Jules who Greg told to take the day off. Jules had a lot to say about that, but in the end it was a direct order from her superior and Commander Holleran had agreed with Greg.

_"Constable Callaghan you are emotionally involved with this case and I won't tolerate you getting involved," Commander Holleran had said curtly, "You go home constable and get rest." _

_Jules didn't argue after that, she just left, the door slamming on the way out. Commander Holleran turned to Greg, "I'll send someone else in to cover for Jules," he had said, "Can your team handle this?" _

_"I think we can," Greg had answered, he looked around the room, noting that everyone except Ed was there, "Eddie's got a court date," he mentioned, "we need someone to fill in."_

_"I've already got her," Commander Holleran had then shouted, "Constable Sabine, get in here." _

_Donna walked into Team One with her head held fine, she nodded, "Good morning Sarge."_

_Everyone else who sat in the briefing room stopped and stared, no words were spoken save Leah. _

_"Good morning Constable Sabine," she greeted with a smile. Sam fought to keep his emotions in check. Looks like Jules was being replaced, again. _

"Spike, what does our building look like," Greg asked the bomb and technical expert.

Spike frowned as he looked at the blueprint of the building Wordy caught onto his partner's scowl and cussed mentally, "Not good Sarge, twenty floors tall, at least ten offices per floor."

"Needle in a haystack," Sam commented from the driver's seat next to Greg. Reid's voice chimed in.

"Actually, our UnSubs don't want to be found, so it's more like two pieces of hay in a haystack," the genius said from the last FBI vehicle, JJ had to suppress a laugh as she drove that held Reid and her both.

Donna's voice chimed in from the middle SRU vehicle, she and Leah were together in the SUV, "Sarge, if he pulls a weapon, what would happen?"

Greg asked the profilers, "Well Agent Hotchner?"

"The UnSubs won't give up without a fight, they'll take anyone down with them if need be," Hotchner answered and Sam chimed in.

"The subjects use a knife," Sam said, "It doesn't jam, doesn't require ammo and you don't need training to use it. Of course this guy has training, we're going to have to take him down hard and fast."

"Both of them," Emily commented from the middle vehicle, she and Derek were in it. Derek was driving.

"Alright team," Greg said as he started giving out orders, "Donna, Sam, Leah, Wordy, clear out the building. Sweep with extreme caution, both subjects are likely to spook at the sight of the uniform. Spike, you're with me in the truck."

"Copy Sarge," six voices said over the radio.

_**2132 Eglinton Avenue,**____**Toronto,ON**____**- Martel Brother's Security Systems - 10:29 am**_

The SUV's came to a stop in front of a regular looking office building, Greg got out of the SUV and stepped inside the command mobile, which was parked out of sight. Agent Hotchner and his team got out of their SUVs and with the SRU, rushed into the building.

Wordy stepped up to the front desk with Morgan where two secretaries worked, they both looked up as 5 heavily armed officers in SWAT gear and seven serious looking people approached them.

Wordy showed his badge, "I'm Officer Wordsworth with the Strategic Response Unit," he said as Morgan showed his badge, "And this is Agent Morgan with the FBI, there's been a security incident and we need you to get out. Officer Kerns will escort you out of the building."

Leah motioned for the two secretaries to follow her out of the building, Wordy and the rest of the team moved on to the next area . . .

"Subjects work on the fifth floor," Greg stated into the radio as Spike's fingers flew over the keyboard bringing up windows and shutting them down as soon as he was done with them.

"Copy that Sarge," Wordy said as Sam escorted a group of workers to Leah to take them out of the building.

They entered the fifth floor, Wordy, Hotch and Morgan went straight to the boss's office while Sam and the rest of the SRU secured the area.

"What the hell?" said a surprised Mr. Martel as two agents and an SRU officer walked into his office.

"Federal Bureau of Investigation," Hotch said showing his badge to the surprised boss, "We need Richard Wright and George Corrigan. Where are they?"

Mr. Martel frowned, "They both called in sick they left about a half an hour ago," he said, "What's this all about?"

"Sir, we need to know about your employees," Morgan stated, "Have they been acting strange recently? Withdrawn? Hostile?"

"They're great employees, never miss a day. No complaints, they're role models for the rest of the company. Especially since Richard and George have been through a lot," Mr. Martel explained.

"Have they ever talked about what happened?" Wordy asked.

Mr. Martel shook his head, "No, they were pretty quiet about it."

Spike's voice interjected over the airwaves, "Richard Wright was involved in the death of his wife. Apparently his wife was shot by accident during a police raid in her workplace. The officer was never charged with anything more than a slap on the wrist."

"Who was the officer?" Greg asked as he looked over Spike's shoulder at the file that was pulled up.

Both of their faces blanched considerably, Greg cussed under his breath. For the members of Team One, that was a very bad sign. The level headed sergeant barely cussed, if ever.

"Who was the officer?" Sam asked a little impatiently, wondering what had the sergeant so worried.

"Guys . . ." Spike said, regaining his composure, "It's Ed."

_**2813 Merton Street Toronto, ON M1L 3K7 – Lane's Residence – 11:00 am**_

"Clark, hurry up! You're going to be late for rehearsal!" Ed shouted up the stairs as he shrugged on the jacket of his suit. Who ever invented court dates was the worst person ever. Ed liked action, he liked to bust a drug deal, arrest a gang or at least save someone, even if it was an old lady in a house filled with the little devils they called cats.

"Alright, hang on dad!" Clark shouted back down as he grabbed his cello and packed it.

A knock on the door interrupted Ed's preparations, he reached the door before Sophie and he opened it. He found himself sprawled on the floor with a knife to his throat seconds later.

"Remember me Constable Lane?" Richard snarled as he pressed the knife harder to Ed's throat.

Sophie screamed and Clark stood at the top of the stairs frozen in shock as his father's life lay in the hands of a madman.

"Nobody move or talk!" Richard said dangerously, "Or Constable Lane here dies!"

**DUN DUN DUUUN. I hope the next chapter doesn't take as long to type as this one. Sorry about the long delay guys! **


	8. Freedom

_Revenge is always the weak pleasure of a little and narrow mind.__  
__Juvenal_

_**2813 Merton Street Toronto, ON M1L 3K7 – Lane's Residence – 11:05 am**_

Ed's face was a mixture of shock and surprise as he looked up at Richard and felt the cold steel of the knife against his throat. He looked over at Sophie who was on the verge of hysteria.

"Alright, take it easy Soph, take it easy," Ed soothed as he was forced up by Richard, "Deep breaths."

"Shut up!" Richard yelled at Ed, "Shut the hell up!"

Ed nodded and complied with Richard's orders. Richard forced him into the living room, glaring at Sophie and Clark as well, "Get in the room! Or else he dies!"

Clark and Sophie went in, encouraged by a nod from Ed. Richard glared at Clark, "Go close the blinds," he said angrily, "Now!"

Clark's hands shook as he closed the blinds, Ed closed his eyes. This meant that a sniper or anyone else couldn't get eyes in. It made it that much harder to plan an entry. Richard directed Sophie to close the doors to the room; they were now essentially locked in.

"Sit on the ground," Richard ordered Ed's family, he stayed standing with Ed, keeping the knife pressed against the officer's throat.

"My name's Ed," Ed said to Richard, "You don't want to do this, you really don't."

"Don't tell me what I can or can't do bastard!" Richard snarled, "You killed my wife dammit!"

Ed would have recoiled at that bit of information if he wasn't being held with a knife to his throat. Richard noticed the shock on Ed's face.

"What? You don't remember?" Richard snarled dangerously in Ed's ear, his hot breath searing Ed's ear, "March 12, 1995. You remember your little raid on that warehouse on Queen Street? That woman you shot and killed in cold blood because she was just there? She lost her life, you got probation."

Ed exhaled and nodded, he remembered. It was the worst day of his life.

"_We're raiding a warehouse today," the chief said as he briefed his men, "Possible weapons and drugs, civilian presence is heavy, so be careful."_

"_Shouldn't we be handing this over to the SRU?" an officer asked._

_The chief glared at the officer, "I'm going to pretend I never heard that Constable Marlett. We leave in 20." _

_Fast forward to 30 minutes later, Ed stood in his uniform, yelling at people to lie on the floor and put their hands on their head. He was clearing out a small room with tons of boxes and plenty of places to hide. He saw a woman in the corner crying, Ed pointed his gun at her, "Put your hands up where I can see them! Hands where I can see them!" _

_She did what he said, "I'm sorry, I didn't know what was going on here honestly! I'm innocent!"_

_Ed placed handcuffs on her and he turned around to find himself face to face with a man who immediately went for his gun. Somehow the gun was grabbed and Ed struggled to get it back, shots went off and the woman fell to the ground, a bullet wound in her chest. Ed caught the man in a chokehold and held him there until he fell, "Stay down!" he yelled, "STAY DOWN!" _

_The man was more inclined to obey orders once a gun was pointed at his head, "Dispatch this is officer 5321 requesting EMS, woman down. I repeat I have a woman down." Ed zip tied the man's hands and ran over to the woman, "I'm so sorry," he said as he placed pressure on her wound to stop the bleeding, "I'm sorry, just hang in there." _

_Her eyes glazed over as she breathed her last breath. Ed yelled, "No! NO! Don't give up on me!" _

Meanwhile, the six SUVs screamed up Eglinton Avenue, Sarge was spearheading the caravan in the truck. They had listened to Spike's recap of what was in the file, "This is bad," Greg said, "It's personal for him. Stealth approach, I don't want any sirens or lights when we drive up there. Wordy."

Wordy shook his head as he tried Ed's cell for the umpteenth time, "No joy Sarge, Ed's not answering his phone."

Sam shook his head and swore under his breath as he gunned the engine and the truck accelerated. They screeched to a halt at the house, it looked quiet, too quiet. The blinds were closed and Ed's car was parked in the front.

"Ed's still in there," Donna said as she pulled up silently behind Sam's car.

Greg got out of his car and started issuing orders, "Sam, Donna try to find a sierra shot," the two officers nodded and jogged off in different directions, "Wordy, Leah, go around back and see if you can get eyes in, find out which room they're being held in. Spike, you're with me in the truck. Let's find out all we can about Richard before we begin negotiations."

The three officers went to their positions, Leah and Wordy went out back, checking windows for their team leader. No joy.

Hotch had ordered each of his team to pair up with an SRU officer to supply additional backup. Rossi went with Sam, Morgan went with Wordy, JJ went with Donna, Emily with Leah, and Hotch and Reid were in the truck with Greg and Spike.

Sam sat on his perch, it was the roof of the truck, he lay there looking in the scope of his rifle as he said, "Sierra One has no solution. Looks like blinds are drawn in the room in the south west corner of the house, lower level."

Wordy nodded, "That's Ed's living room." He knew from years of being at Ed's place for nightly hockey games and barbeques.

"Wordy do you think you can get a cam in?" Greg asked.

"Copy Sarge," Wordy was already at the SUV, grabbing the necessary equipment from the trunk, Leah covered the window as he placed the kit on the ground and prepared to drill into the wall.

Sam grabbed the infrared scope and glanced through that, "Looks like we have four subjects in the room, one has a knife. Two are on the floor and the other one's being held by the one with the knife."

"Copy that," Greg stated as he nodded at Spike. Spike leaned in and said into the microphone, "11:19 am Sergeant Parker begins negotiations."

Greg nodded and dialed Ed's number.

_RING! RING!_

Richard jumped at the sound of the phone ringing, he glared at it and yelled at Clark, "Pick it up! Answer it dammit!"

Clark nodded and picked up the phone, "Hello?"

Greg nodded to Spike, "Hi, I'm Sergeant Gregory Parker with the police Strategic Response Unit, who am I speaking to?"

Clark looked up at Richard, "Clark Lane."

"Hi Clark," Greg said, "Can I speak to Richard?"

Clark looked at Richard, "They want to speak to you."

"No!" the man yelled, "I'm not speaking to them! Tell them if they come in, Constable Lane dies!"

Clark relayed the information to Greg, even though the shout was loud enough for Wordy to hear outside. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.

Ed knew the importance of getting ears or eyes in on the situation, he felt his cell phone in his pocket, he needed a good distraction and he needed Clark and Sophie out of the house. He had a plan.

"Listen Richard," Ed said to his captor, "Soph and Clark have nothing to do with this, alright? It's just between you and me, okay Richard? Let them go, I'll stay."

"No, I need as much leverage as possible!" Richard snarled, "I need them!"

"It was me you were looking for all this time," Ed said calmly, "Richard, I need to protect my family, like you're protecting your wife's memory. Please let them go," he said as he pressed the 1 on his phone, it was the speed dial number for Greg.

Greg got the phone call and he motioned for the truck to be quiet as they finally got ears in on the situation.

Richard considered Ed's proposition, "How do I know your guys won't just kill me? Huh? Like you did my wife."

"I promise they won't hurt you," Ed stated calmly, "Let them go and I'll stay."

"Alright," Richard said and he glared at Clark as the phone rang again, "Tell them you and your mom are coming out, no funny business or Ed dies."

Ed sighed with relief inwardly, for one, he negotiated his family's release and two, he was being called by his name, rather than Constable Lane. This man may be viewing him as a human being rather than a robot in uniform.

Clark picked up the phone and Greg nodded as Clark said the terms for their release. Greg told Clark, "We'll have some men waiting outside, don't worry they won't hurt you. Just come out with your hands in the air and we'll escort you to safety."

"Okay," Clark answered, swallowing dryly. He hung up at Richard's bidding and Richard followed them out to the front door, he stood out of sight with Ed still in his grasp, Clark slowly opened the front door.

Wordy stood there with a shield in case Richard had something more than a knife in his arsenal, Leah, Emily and Morgan stood behind him, each of them aiming their weapon at the door. The door slowly opened and Clark came out with both hands in the air, Sam could see Richard standing in the back with Ed at knifepoint.

"No solution," Sam stated into the radio.

"Easy Sam," Greg cautioned, Rossi could hear the tension in Sam's voice. No one messes with the police or their friends and expect to get away from it alive.

Clark and Sophie walked out of the house, Richard prodded Ed forward, and Richard shouted, "If anyone tries to come in, Ed Lane dies!"

He then forced Ed to shut the door and they returned to the room. As soon as the door slammed shut, Leah and Emily were rushing Clark and Sophie out of danger while Wordy and Morgan backed out, covering them.

"Come on," Emily said leading Sophie to safety behind the trucks, "You're safe now."

Clark turned back to face the house, "Dad," he said, trying to run back, Wordy intercepted him, "We'll take care of your dad, don't worry. He's family to us, we look out for each other."

Wordy lead Clark back to behind the SUV's, "We'll get him out of there, Ed's a smart guy. He knows how to handle this."

Meanwhile inside the house, Ed was back in the room with Richard. Richard trusted him enough to keep the knife away from his neck, but Richard kept the knife out of Ed's grasp and in plain view as he paced the room.

"What happens now?" Richard said angrily, "I bet they'll do everything to save you, huh? Shoot me?"

"We won't hurt you Richard," Ed assured, "It's not our policy to shoot first and ask questions later. Let's just talk this out, okay?"

"I'm done with talking," Richard glared at Ed, "You killed my wife dammit! Shot her in cold blood!"

"I swear," Ed said calmly, "It was an accident, I couldn't live with myself after that. I almost quit the force."

"Well why didn't you?" Richard asked pointing the knife at Ed and pressing the point against his windpipe.

"I wanted to protect those who were closest to me," Ed answered looking Richard in the eye, "I promised I'd never hurt the innocent again."

"A little too late for my wife, don't you think?" Richard asked rhetorically, smiling dangerously, "Just a little too late."

"It was," Ed agreed, "And I'm sorry it had to end up like that, I really am. But if you kill me, it's over. It's over."

"It already was over," Richard grinned maliciously, backing away from Ed, "I killed Constable Chandler, Constable Callaghan and both of their families. I've got nothing left! Nothing!"

Ed started a little at the last name, '_Jules?_' he thought. That made no sense, she had no immediate family.

Richard backed away from Ed, pointing the knife downward, "You were my last target Constable Lane, my last target."

Wordy sat quietly in the hallway outside of the room Ed was being held in, he had placed a fiber-optic camera under the door opening and wiggled it around so he could get a good view of the room. He saw Richard step away from Ed and point the knife down, he nodded towards Leah and the FBI, "Entry in 3, 2, 1." He whispered.

Donna launched CS grenades into the room, while Wordy and Spike busted the door open and threw a flashbang into the room. Suddenly, chaos erupted.

Shouts of "POLICE STRATEGIC RESPONSE UNIT!", "FBI!", "POLICE!" and "Show me your hands!" rent the air. Richard simply shook his head and said, "Good bye Ed," and he slit his own throat. Landing dead as soon as the police entered.

Wordy ran over to Ed who had fell to the floor and put his hands where they could see them, "You okay Ed?"

"You guys owe me a new door and window," was Ed's response as he was helped up by the hand-to-hand combat expert.

Greg patted Ed's back, "Glad to have you back Eddy."

Leah shook her head as she felt for Richard's pulse, "He's dead, slit his own throat."

"An investigation will confirm that," a gruff voice interrupted from the doorway. Inspectors Stainton and Donovan stood there.

"Inspector," Ed greeted curtly.

"Constable," Stainton returned with the same air of slight hostility, "Glad to see you okay."

"I'll bet inspector, I'll bet," Ed said as Wordy lead him out of the building.

"Okay, what was that?" Emily asked as she saw them both walk out of the house, leaving behind a slightly confused and slightly bemused team of cops and agents behind.

"Apparently Ed beat Stainton into the SRU," Sam said, "Ed was chosen over Stainton. They've been having a rivalry ever since. Stainton ranks higher than Ed but Ed has his dream job."

"Interesting," Emily muttered as she watched the paramedics look over Richard's body.

Suddenly Hotch ran up, "The hospital called, Anna Callaghan's gone missing. The police officer assigned to her was found dead."

Greg looked over at Ed, "You ready for action Eddie?"

Ed nodded, "Absolutely," he said as he strapped on a vest and holstered his service weapon.

**'mmakingthisintoalinebreak!wheeeee! **

**Okay, so apparently an update "soon" meant within 24 hours . . . huh. :) Hope ya like? **


	9. Plan

_Revenge has no more quenching effect on emotions than salt water has on thirst. – Walter Weckler _

_**Unknown Apartment in Toronto – 11:45 am**_

Anna Callaghan sat in a dark room, George standing in the door way, his knife in his hand. Anna looked down and felt her stitches straining, her bandage was visible and a spot of red was beginning to spread across the white gauze.

"I'm bleeding," she said uneasily as she sat up against the wall, her hands were tied in front of her. George went over and cut her bonds, not saying a word until.

"Sorry Sarah," he said regrettably, glancing at her sadly, "It didn't have to be like this."

Anna's eyes widened in confusion, "But I'm not-," she caught the look in George's eyes, "Sorry."

"I thought you died sweetie," George said with a sad look in his eyes, "I thought those damn cops took you away from me forever. But I finally found you," he said with a sad smile in his face.

"I-," Anna's voice cracked a little as she fought to keep her heart rate under control. She had to keep calm or else the wound would open up again and she'd panic even more than she was now, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me baby girl," George said with a fatherly smile, "I'll make sure you're safe."

George backed out of the room and closed the door quietly, Anna started hyperventilating. '_Damn! How am I going to get out of this alive?_' she thought as she panicked, '_Do I even _want _to get out of this alive? I have nothing left, I might as well let that psychopath kill me . . ._' she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes and let the pain course through her body. It was better than feeling nothing.

_**2813 Merton Street Toronto, ON M1L 3K7 – Lane's Residence – 11:05 am**_

Greg looked over at Spike, "You got an address for George Corrigan?"

Spike nodded as he finished the search, "Copy that Sarge, he has an apartment on 2787 Adelaide Street. Apartment 405."

"Let's go," Greg nodded to the rest of the group, Ed nodded as he turned to his family.

Sophie looked at him, "Ed," she began.

"Look Soph, I'm sorry but they need me out there," Ed stated, Greg had already filled him in on the situation with Jules and what was going on, "This guy's dangerous and they need all the help they can get."

"You almost got killed today. Please Ed, I don't want to lose you," Sophie asserted as she stared down Ed. Ed put a hand on her shoulder.

"I promise I'll be back, in one piece. I'm going to get an officer to escort you to HQ where you'll be safe," Ed nodded to a uniformed officer who was standing by, "Take them to SRU headquarters," he walked away and spoke into his radio, "Winnie, I'm sending my wife and kid over to HQ, as soon as they arrive, put the place on lockdown."

"Copy," Winnie said.

Greg placed a hand on Ed's shoulder as he watched the cop car drive away with his wife and son in it, "You gonna be okay Eddie?"

"I'm fine," Ed answered as he turned around and headed to the SUV. Hotch stood near his SUV, watching the scene take place, no doubt he was remembering his late wife and child.

Greg nodded as he took out his Blackberry and pressed the 3 on speed dial . . .

_**4834 Eglinton Avenue, Toronto, ON (Jules Callaghan Residence) – 11:50 am**_

The shrill ring of the cell phone jolted Jules out of her sleep, she swore that after today, she'd get Spike to "accidently" blow up the phone, or at least give her a new number. Bailey rose from her bed and whined as Jules stalked out of bed and picked up the phone, "Hello?" she asked, trying to sound awake.

Greg took a deep breath, "Jules, its Greg. Something's come up. Anna's missing."

That statement woke the rappelling expert up more than a shot of espresso, "What the hell happened?"

"We think one of the suspects kidnapped Anna, we don't know why yet," Greg stated, "But we're going to bring her home, safe."

"I'm coming down," Jules retorted.

"Jules, you're emotional and way too involved with this, stay where you are," Greg answered firmly, "I'm sorry, but you'll get in the way."

Jules sighed, Greg was right and she knew it. Emotional family members getting involved in SRU cases always had the tendency to make an already bad situation much worse. But she couldn't just sit around and wait for a phone call, she grabbed her jacket and car keys, Bailey looked up at Jules questioningly.

"Sorry girl, I've gotta go," Jules said petting the dog, "Afterwards we'll have a nice long run."

Jules rushed out the door and ran to her Jeep she slammed the door, turned the key in the ignition and drove out of the driveway. Fast.

She dialed the SRU headquarters' number, Winnie answered on the first ring, "Strategic Response Unit."

"Winnie, I need to know where Team One's going," Jules said, she knew she could probably drive around Toronto until she saw the three SUVs and a multitude of police cars parked around an area, but that would take too long.

Winnie nodded as she typed into her computer, "Team One's headed to 2787 Adelaide Street."

"Thanks Winnie," Jules said as she swerved the car and made a tight U-turn, a car honked and the driver gave her the middle finger, "I owe you one."

"No problem Jules," Winnie said hanging up.

Jules glared at the driver, "Asshole," she cussed as she wished that her Jeep had a siren system, it would make this drive _so_ much easier. She sped off down the road towards the location that Winnie told her.

_**2787 Adelaide St**__**reet, Apartment 405, Toronto, Canada – 12:00 pm**_

The door opened, Anna looked back up to see George standing there with a pile of clothes and a plate of food in his hand, "I thought you might want to change out of the gown and eat something."

"T-thanks," Anna said to George as he smiled and handed her the food and clothes.

"This outfit was your favorite, I saved it after all these years . . . so you could wear it," George gave her a grin, "Glad to have you back Sarah."

Anna again had to control her breathing as George hugged her, she could feel the knife in his waistband, if only she could just reach . . .

He pulled away too fast, "I'll be back. I've got to check something," he gave her a fatherly smile that made Anna sick to her stomach, he left and shut the door softly behind him, Anna could hear the click of a lock as he shut the door. She curled up in the fetal position, resting her back on the wall and her head in her knees. Why did this happen to her?

George peered out the window it was by force of habit by now. It was a good thing for him, bad for the SRU and FBI. He saw the SUVs and the police cars, he shook his head, "No, no! NO!"

He quickly ran to the door and locked all the locks, using a couch to block off the entrance, and then he shut the curtains to the windows and peered around for any other openings. He franticly paced around, wondering when they'd bust in . . .

The movement at the window hadn't escaped Sam Braddock's notice, he shook his head, "George saw us," he said pointing to the window, Ed had also caught the movement.

Hotch cursed under his breath, Greg was still sitting in the SUV, he slammed his hand against the steering wheel before saying, "We have to talk to him, Eddie, find a way into the room. Wordy, I need eyes in, Spike, set up the parabolic mike, I need ears."

"Copy," Ed, Wordy and Spike said.

"What are you going to do?" Hotch asked the Sergeant as he asked Winnie for a phone number.

Greg looked up at the agent, "Talk him down, what else?"

Wordy caught the incredulous look Morgan gave Greg, as if the agent were expecting an entirely different answer, "Hey, Agent Morgan?" Wordy asked to the FBI agent, "I might need some backup with putting the camera through."

Greg shot him a look, Wordy's slight lift of the shoulders indicated a shrug, he knew he really didn't need back up, he could take down an armed assailant with his bare hands. Derek nodded and followed the constable to the building.

Winnie supplied Greg with the number and the sergeant went off to the truck, nodding to Donna as he walked in. Hotch followed shortly after, "You're going to talk George down?"

"Look," Greg said to the agent, "I don't know how you do it in the states, and I respect your decisions, what ever they might be. But we're here to save lives, we save the hostage and, if we can, the hostage taker," he looked over to Donna and nodded.

"12:10 pm, Sergeant Parker begins negotiations," Donna recited into the transcriber.

Greg dialed the number Winnie supplied him and waited . . .

Meanwhile, Ed was outside, a blueprint of the apartment on the hood of a Suburban, he looked over it with Sam, Leah and the agents.

"Looks like we have only one door leading into the apartment, we can send a team in there. There's an interior room if I were him, that's where I'd keep Anna," Ed stated as he pointed out the locations with his gloved hand, "There's a window in the adjacent room, good entry point. Spike, you up for explosive entry?"

Spike grinned as he gave his answer, "Copy that Ed," he made an explosion noise. JJ couldn't help but feel a tug at the corner of her mouth. Spike was always relieving the tension with his jokes.

"Alright, copy that." Ed looked over the map again, "Sam, I want you to find a sierra shot, after the explosive entry, the blinds will be no problem. See if you can get eyes in using the infrared."

"Copy," Sam said, running off to find a proper vantage point.

Ed scrutinized the map, "Alright, Leah, you and I are Alpha. Wordy, Spike, you guys are Bravo. Bravo team rigs up windows for explosive entry, Alpha enter in through the door."

Wordy shook his head as he put the camera under the door, he saw nothing but black on the screen, something was blocking his vision, "No joy Boss," Wordy whispered, shaking his head, "he's blocked the door with something."

"No joy either," Spike said as he tried listening with the mike, "too much traffic," he said, "All I can hear are cars, no conversation."

Greg nodded silently as he waited for George to pick up, finally someone answered, "Who is this?" the voice snapped.

"Hi, I'm Sergeant Greg Parker with the Police Strategic Response Unit. How are you doing today Mr. Corrigan?" Greg greeted, Hotch grabbed a headset and listened in on the conversation.

"I was doing fine until you guys showed up," George snapped, "Get out of here or else."

"We can't do that George. You have a girl in that apartment against her will. She means a lot to her family," Greg said smoothly, "If you could release this girl safely, we can all go home safe."

"No! NO!" George yelled into the receiver, Spike was trying to see if he could still find a sweet spot, George's yell was quite loud, it caused the sensitive microphone to screech and Spike winced as the loud pitch clawed at his eardrums like an aggressive cat.

"Hey guys . . ." Spike said as he rubbed his ear, "I think I found the sweet spot."

He could finally hear what was going on in the apartment. George slammed the telephone down as he hung up, he stalked over to Anna's room, "Cops are here," he said hurriedly, "Damn it, damn it!"

"It's okay," Anna said, she was grateful, the cops would help her, "It'll be alright."

"I'll protect you," George said his voice filled with resolve, "I swear on my life you'll never get hurt by the police again."

Spike heard that and relayed the information to Greg, Greg looked over at Donna, "Get all the information you can get on George Corrigan. Why is he so interested in this girl?"

Sam's voice piped up from his vantage point, where he had an unobstructed view of the parking lot, "Boss, we might have a _slight_ problem . . ."

Ed looked to see Jules's jeep pull up, "Boss, Jules is here."

Greg shook his head in disbelief, "Winnie, did you give Jules the address?"

"Yeah Sarge, why? Something wrong?" Winnie asked over the radio, Greg shook his head.

"It's okay Winnie, I've got it." Greg stated as he walked out of the truck and to Jules who was exiting her Jeep, "Jules," he began.

"Sarge, I know, I'm emotionally involved with this case and I won't be able to work out in the field. Put me in the truck if you have to, but this is as much for Chris as it is for me," Jules interjected quickly, "Just let me stay. Please."

Greg scrutinized her face for a moment, "Alright, you're in the truck, but you don't so much as take a step out of my sight. Copy?"

"Copy Sarge," Jules said hopping into the truck, Donna looked up at Jules.

"Good afternoon Constable Callaghan . . ." Donna nodded at Jules. Jules nodded back and sat in the seat next to Donna, grabbing a headset and putting it on.

"Donna," Greg nodded his head towards the door, "Go join Ed."

"Yes sir," Donna said, she got up and left the truck. Ed looked up as Donna approached him.

"Constable Sabine, just the woman I wanted to see," he said, giving her instructions, "You'll be alpha with me and Leah . . ."

Meanwhile in the apartment, Wordy and Morgan were making their way back down the staircase to get to the parking lot, "What was that all about?" Derek asked Wordy.

"What was what all about?" Wordy asked as he shifted the weight of his bag a little.

"The non-lethal solutions, the talking people down? Where did that come from? Last time I was up here, you guys shot an autistic with no weapon on him," Morgan said, a little bitterness seeping into his voice.

"Morgan," Hotch's voice warned over the radio, Wordy looked like he had just been slapped in the face, but it didn't stop him from returning a few words as well.

"Listen," Wordy said a little forcefully, "I don't know what team handled that, they weren't even in our jurisdiction I bet. If we were handling that case, we'd take him down alright. We'd shoot rubber bullets and a Taser. Don't go judging us because we look like SWAT," the constable exited the building in a huff. No one had seen him that agitated since the time they handled a domestic abuse case.

Ed saw Wordy walking towards him, "You okay Wordy?"

"Yeah, fine," Wordy said as he slowly cooled down from his outburst, he nodded to Ed.

"Alright, we need you on the roof, Spike will join you later. He's getting Donna on ears," Ed looked up at the sniper perch on the building opposite the apartment complex, "Sam, you have infrared up?"

"Yes sir," Sam said, "I'm only catching one person on infrared, looks like they're pacing around the room, knife in hand."

"Copy that," Ed looked at the group that had assembled around him, "Alright everyone, listen up. I'll lead Alpha team, Leah, Donna and our FBI friends, you'll be with me. Wordy, Spike you two are Bravo. Alpha team's going to move down the hallway and hold formation at the door. Door is barricaded so we'll have to wait for Bravo team to rappel down and go in through the windows, explosive entry. Blinds shouldn't be a problem anymore for Sam, so he's Sierra One. Should things go south, I'll call Scorpio and end this."

The SRU members understood what Ed meant by Scorpio, the FBI members understood what he meant by "end this". If it came to it, they'd have to end this lethally.

"Subject has a knife and he has no firearms registered to him. It doesn't mean he hasn't got surprises in there, Donna, you carry a shield," Ed turned to address the FBI members, "You'll enter behind us, I don't want anyone getting hurt on my watch."

They nodded, each wondering how this would end.

While all this was going on, in the truck Greg was trying hard to control George, who was growing agitated by the moment. Jules was doing a good job of keeping her face a mask of calm and sanguine, "Sarge, you gotta take a look at this," she said as she pulled up a case file.

Greg read over the file, George's daughter, Sarah, was shot and killed in a police raid. She had a water pistol that was mistaken for a weapon, the police shot her. What was more surprising was the picture they had of Sarah, "Notice a resemblance?" Greg asked rhetorically. Sarah was almost the spitting image of Anna.

Jules shook her head, "This is going to be a tough one to talk down Sarge."

"Yeah, I know Jules," Greg stated, "Nevertheless, I want you in the truck," he turned and talked to the rest of his team, "Alright, our subject's dealing with the death of his daughter at the hands of the police, he's delusional, he mistook Anna for his dead daughter."

"This sounds too familiar," Leah commented, looking at Ed, "Dale Murray?"

"Yeah, I don't like the sound of this either," Ed shook his head, "Boss, he's not gonna be happy to see us."

"If negotiations go south, aggressive entry Ed," Greg sighed and looked at Hotch, "Got a plan?"

"The police presence is making him agitated," Hotch said, "We've got to lessen the pressure on him."

"I've got something in mind . . ." Greg said as he picked up the radio.

**Double rainbow all the way across the sky! Yeah yeaahhhh! So intense! **

**Wait, what was I saying? Ah, right :D. I'm actually updating this thing? Heh, I know, surprising! I just had to add that bit with Morgan and Wordy, I kind of hated the ending when the SWAT team shot Lucas. I kept thinking . . . what would the SRU do?**

**For those who may be confused, Dale Murray was the gentleman in Never Let You Down who kidnapped a girl named Zoe, who looked very similar to his kidnapped/deceased daughter Wendy. Anyway, I'll leave you to watch that AWESOME episode if you haven't seen it.**

**Noww . . . **

**Wooooaahhhhhh that is the baddest bleeping rainbow I've ever seen . . . **


	10. Negotiated

_In taking revenge, a man is but even with his enemy; but in passing it over, he is superior. __- __Francis Bacon_

George heard the slams of car doors and someone shouting entirely too loudly, "Let's move it! Get out of here!"

He hazarded a look outside, what he saw surprised him, a lot. The parking lot that teemed with police cars was emptying . . . they were _leaving_. He heard the phone ringing and he answered it, "Hey George, it's Greg again," the voice said.

"What's going on?" George asked as he backed away from the window and shook his head, this was too good to be true.

"We're backing off, just like you asked, alright? It's just you and me George, just you and me," Greg said with a tone of assurance.

George shook his head, "I don't trust you!" he yelled, "I don't trust you."

"Dad," he heard behind him, Anna was standing in the doorway, she took a hesitant step out . . . "Dad, you gotta trust them."

Sam's eyes widened as he saw another shape of color appear on the infrared, "Sarge, I've got someone else on infrared, looks female. It might be Anna."

"Copy," Greg whispered into his headset and went on to talk to George. The man's attention was diverted though . . . to his "daughter".

"Why do you want me to trust them? They almost killed you sweetie," George said softly, he shook his head, "Why should I trust you Greg?"

Greg took a deep breath, "I pulled the police back George, just release Anna, we can work this whole thing out, face to face. Okay?"

"Her name's not Anna! Her name's Sarah! She's mine! You took her away from me and she came back!" George yelled, "Just leave us alone!"

"Anna's hurt," Greg said calmly, "You saw she was taken from the hospital, you know what kind of injuries she sustained. She needs medical attention, I bet she's in a lot of pain right now. Go ahead, ask her."

George turned to Anna, "You okay? Are you in pain?"

Anna nodded, "Yeah, my stomach hurts a lot," she said, swallowing drily.

George nodded and seemed to think for a bit, "How should I trust that you won't take Sarah away again? Huh? How should I trust you?"

Greg sighed, he had to take control now, "George, the girl you have with you, her name's not Sarah. She's Anna, she has a loving family and she needs to go back home."

Jules' head snapped up to look at Greg for a moment, Hotch shook his head, "You're going to have to go in Sergeant Parker. He's gone too far."

"Just hang on a moment," Greg whispered to the agent before returning to George, "I know you want to protect her, but the only way to protect her is by letting her go. Alright?"

"Yeah, I see what you mean Greg," George said slowly and calmly. Anyone would have thought this was going to be over, but Greg heard the undertone of George's voice. Negotiations were about to go south, way south.

"You and the rest of your policemen buddies are going to back the hell off from my apartment," George said calmly, "The FBI too. And if you dare come into my apartment, I'll kill Sarah and myself. You'll never lay a hand on her!"

Suddenly, the line went dead. Greg tried dialing the number, but he got nothing, "Alright, he's not talking anymore. Ed?"

"Copy Boss," he nodded to the rest of the team, "We're going in for aggressive entry. Bravo team, on my go."

"Copy," Spike and Wordy answered. Spike had already rigged the windows for entry, they leaned out from the edge of the roof, ready for action.

Ed and the rest of Alpha team stood by the door, Donna with the shield in front, followed closely by Ed and Leah. The rest of the FBI stood at the back, providing backup.

"3 . . ." Ed counted down, "2 . . ." Spike leaned back heavier on his harness, ready to rappel down, "1, Bravo team, go, go, go!"

Spike and Wordy rappelled down the side of the apartment building, the windows broke as the small charges detonated and a millisecond later, Spike threw a flashbang into the room, they landed just after it detonated.

"Strategic Response Unit!" Spike yelled as Wordy quickly moved the couch away from the door, allowing Donna to enter in with the shield and everyone else to enter in quickly behind her.

They stopped short as they saw George standing there, Anna in hand with a knife at her throat . . .

"Boss, we got a problem," Ed stated calmly as he aimed his gun at George, "Subject has a hostage, knife at her throat."

"Copy that Eddie," Greg fought to stay calm in front of Jules, "Sam, do you have the solution?"

"I've got it," Sam answered as he aimed his rifle at George's head. Ed was right the blinds were no longer a problem . . .

"Stand by," Greg stated, "Ed?"

"Subject is red, he's escalated, Sarge, we've got to take the shot now," Ed whispered into the radio as he yelled, "Let Anna go. Drop the knife now."

"No!" George yelled, he removed the knife from Anna's throat and pointed the tip at Ed as he began moving forward.

"Scorpio! Scorpio!" Greg yelled into the radio.

_BAM! _

_Thud_

"Subject down," Sam said calmly as he ejected the cartridge from his rifle and aimed the gun once more to see if George really was incapacitated enough.

George landed on the ground, clutching his hand. The bullet hadn't hit his head, it slammed into his hand, ruining it, but disarming him effectively. Anna looked dazed as she fell into a sitting position and the knife landed right by her hand. It was so easy now, just to get out of this.

She really was alone . . .

She grabbed the knife handle and gripped it as she pressed the blade to her throat. Emily moved forward, "No! Don't do it."

"What's going on in there guys?" Greg asked worriedly.

"Anna's got the knife, she's trying to commit suicide," Ed mentioned hurriedly.

Greg grabbed his ball cap and started to walk out of the truck, "Sarge, wait," Jules said as she joined him, "I can talk down Anna."

"Jules," Greg started again.

"No Sarge, I'm not going to wait in the truck while a family member commits suicide, I can talk her down," Jules pleaded, "Just let me do this Sarge."

"Alright," Greg said, "Get a vest on."

"No time Sarge," Jules said, running off to the apartment, "I already have one on."

Greg shook his head, he couldn't help but smile just a small bit at Jules. His face turned somber as he returned to the truck to help Jules talk down the suicidal teen. He looked up at Hotch, "Looks like we're going to end this peacefully."

Hotch nodded as Greg started speaking to Jules via radio, "Subject's lost her family, she feels desperate. This hostage situation was probably the last straw, she's lost all hope."

"Give her something to hope for, to look forward too," Jules answered in the radio as she ran up the four flights of stairs, "Ed, how's she doing?"

"Agent Prentiss has her deescalated but it's not looking good," Ed answered, he then heard George acting up as Wordy and Spike were hoisting him up.

"Kill yourself Sarah! Do it! Before they catch you!" George yelled, "Come on!"

"Shut up," Wordy snarled as he and Morgan manhandled him out of the room, he was fighting the whole way. Spike stood a respectable distance behind, but he was ready to step in if anything happened.

"Don't listen to him," Emily pleaded as Jules finally ran into the room, Ed nodded to her and she walked up, tapping the agent on the shoulder.

Jules took a step in front of Emily and began talking to Anna, "Anna, remember me? I'm your Aunt Jules."

"Leave me alone," Anna said in an almost emotionless tone, but Jules could detect that small bit of emotion in her voice. Fear.

Jules shook her head, "I can't do that. Thanks, for not killing yourself, are you thinking you might?"

Anna nodded, pressing the blade against her throat. The tension in the room was tangible everyone was silent except for Jules and Anna.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jules said, walking forward a little, "But this isn't the end."

"How do you know that," Anna almost whispered, a few tears were beginning to leak down her face.

Jules said assuredly, "You're not alone, and it may feel like you've come to a dead end. But you will get through this. We'll both get through this, together."

"I've got no one left," Anna shook her head, "No friends, no mom, no dad."

"You've got me," Jules offered, "You've got me and everyone on Team One to help you out."

Anna was shaking her head, tears streaming down her face as the knife shook in her hands. Ed tensed up, the subject was escalating, and despite how much he would hate to, if Anna ran at him or Jules with the knife, he'd have to take her down. This time, it wouldn't just be a shot to the hand . . .

"Stay with me Anna," Jules pleaded, her hands outstretched as if reaching out to her, "I know it feels hopeless, I know. But you've got to trust me, it'll get better. A lot better. You're a fighter Anna, just like me. If you make it through this, you can make it through anything."

The knife lowered a bit, Anna was listening, Jules took a deep breath and continued trying to talk Anna down, "I know it's going to be tough but it'll also be very amazing. Please Anna, just drop the knife. Drop the knife and we can get through this together. Okay?"

The knife clattered to the floor with a metallic sound. Anna collapsed in a fit of sobs, Jules ran over as Ed kicked the knife out of reach and let go of the breath he had been holding. Sam looked up from the scope of his rifle and nodded as he lowered the gun, it ended well today. Anna collapsed into Jules as the woman rubbed comforting circles on her back.

"It's okay," Jules said as she hugged the teen, "It's okay, we'll get you help."

Greg sighed with relief and sat in the chair heavily, he smiled at Hotch and the Unit Chief returned his rare smile as well, "One of those days, eh?" the sergeant asked, "The ones that seem like everything goes wrong but they end up alright."

"Yeah," Hotch answered, remembering the times he had worked as a negotiator smiling a bit, "Yeah . . ."

**Woooooohoooooooo **

**So CTV has new cast bios up, anyone read 'em yet? If anyone has, most of you would have seen something about Jules and (not yet in the show) Steve the paramedic getting together. My thoughts: Well, I haven't seen Steve yet, so I'll give him the BOTD and enjoy this addition to the show. Jules starting a family with Steve maybe? That would be cool but only if Jules stays in the SRU. (Heyyy, Scott, Sam . . . Steve . . . o_o Jules has a preference for men with names that start with "S")**


	11. Aftermath

**Songs that reminded me of this chapter . . . if you wanted to be really depressing, Waiting for Yesterday by 12 Stones, Redemption Day by Johnny Cash or This Dark Day by 12 Stones. Happy songs that will make you feel better for the future, Drops of Jupiter by Train. If you guys have a song that would fit this chapter, please, feel free to post it in the reviews section! I'd love to hear your musical input! (I'm personally listening to Drops of Jupiter as my inspiration for this chapter, so I'll be listening to it). **

It was over.

The whole fiasco over the past two days was finished, done, gone. The case was solved, one of the UnSubs was in the morgue while the other was going to the hospital, and it was unknown whether his hand could be saved or not. Sam scoffed, he didn't care. He hoped the guy would spend a nice long time in jail.

As Sam packed up his rifle and slung it over his shoulder, he saw Emily approach him, "Nice shot," she said.

"Thanks," Sam said as he took a last glance around the roof top before heading down the stairs.

"I know this isn't my place," Emily started, Sam looked at her questioningly, "But I was wondering why you quit your military career to go into police work."

Sam gave her a long, hard look before he said, "You're right, it isn't your place," Sam said a little bitterly as he stalked down the steps of the building, leaving a bewildered agent behind.

Emily looked over the rooftop and at the scene below, Jules was leading Anna out of the building while paramedics were working on stabilizing George for transport. One of the paramedics smiled and nodded at Jules as she went by with Anna.

"Steve," Jules smiled, the paramedic nodded back.

"Jules," he answered, returning the smile.

Jules lead Anna to a stretcher, "You're going to be okay," Jules said, placing a hand on Anna's shoulder, "We'll get you fixed up."

Anna smiled for the first time in days it seemed, "I know," she said softly.

Morgan and Wordy passed by the two talking, "Hey, Constable Wordsworth," Morgan said as he caught up to the father.

"Please, call me Wordy," was the response, "What do you want?"

"I wanted to say I'm sorry for my outburst, it was uncalled for," Morgan admitted.

Wordy turned to the agent, "Its okay, SWAT gets a lot of flack for being trigger happy paramilitary groups, truth is, and most of them are like that. Not us though."

"I know, man," Morgan patted Wordy on the back, the constable grinned.

"You free tonight? I could buy you a drink," Wordy offered as they walked off by Ed and Hotchner.

"Agent Hotchner," Ed greeted as he was packing up his bags and getting ready to drive back to headquarters.

"Your family is important Constable Lane," Hotch said solemnly, "I hope you remember that."

"Why wouldn't I?" Ed asked as he slammed the trunk shut.

"You're neglecting your family for your job. And trust me, I know how that feels, it's addicting, the rush you get when you take down an UnSub. But for the sake of your family, remember they're important," Hotch said looking at him, his dark eyes boring into Ed's blue ones, "If you forget, they'll leave you."

"How do you know how I act around my family?" Ed's voice dropped dangerously, "I care for Soph and Clark."

"I'm sure you do, but you don't act it. Most dads would stay with their family instead of going on this call," Hotch answered, "You went with your team instead of with your wife and kid."

"I don't know what makes you think that you can tell me how to take care of my own family but I will be there for my family," Ed growled.

"My wife was murdered by a serial killer, she and I were divorced because I was married to the job, I can't help but think that if I were there for her, she would still be alive," the agent said, "Don't make my mistake and lose your family too."

"I won't," Ed replied as he got into his SUV with Greg.

They drove off, Hotch standing in the middle of the parking lot and watching as they left. JJ walked up to him, "Inspectors Stainton and Donovan want us to debrief with them in 20."

"Yeah," Hotch nodded, "Okay."

Debrief was quick and painless, just a reassertion of facts already known, the results of the initial investigation of Richard's death cleared Ed of any wrong doing. Richard really had committed suicide. Ed rolled his eyes at the statement and it was something everyone already knew.

Sam was cleared on his less lethal shot. He walked out of the SIU, breathing a sigh of relief, and then he caught sight of a familiar face.

"Hey Jenn," he said giving her a crooked grin, "You up for the coffee shop?"

"Maybe something a bit stronger after today," JJ replied as they walked out of the building.

Sam laughed, "Then we're on the same wavelength," he said as he hailed a cab. The driver was very familiar with the favorite police hangouts of Toronto, and he took them to the preferred bar of the SRU, The Brass.

Sam ordered a few drinks in the hazy and dim atmosphere of the establishment, after a few drinks JJ finally asked, "Why this?"

"Why what?" Sam asked as he took a swig out of his bottle.

"Why SWAT? Why police? Why did you quit the army?" JJ wondered as she watched his reaction.

Sam looked down, defeated, "Y'know, one of your coworkers asked me that same question," he said, "It was my buddy, Matt. A friend and I were taking out targets in Kandahar, I was sniping with a 50 cal, Matt must've walked into my line of fire. He didn't stand a chance . . . I remember having to face his parents at the funeral. Dad told me not to say a word, so I just told them I was sorry for their loss. I felt like a jerk, a liar and a jerk. I couldn't stand military life anymore so I joined up with the Strategic Response Unit."

JJ was silent for a long time after that, she looked over and saw Morgan and Wordy sitting in a booth.

"It's a tough job," Wordy was saying, "Long hours, hectic schedule and you never know if you're going to come home alive."

"I hear you," Morgan said as he sipped his beer. They spent the rest of the night swapping stories and phone numbers. They'd have each other's backs in this job world that is so hostile to them.

Spike was probably the only one at home and on his laptop, save for Ed, who went to be with his family. Spike was working on a program when a window suddenly popped up and his webcam turned on. He found himself staring at a woman with blonde hair with streaks of pink going down it.

"Hello?" Spike asked a little wary of this stranger, "How did you?"

"In time gorgeous," the person answered, "So this is your sacred Babycakes 2.0?"

"I remember that voice, it sounds familiar. You're that technical analyst, Garcia, right?" Spike asked.

"And you're Michelangelo 'Spike' Scarlatti, explosives and demolition expert and technical analyst for Team One of the Strategic Response Unit," was her quick reply that brought a look of surprise on Spike's face.

"Two can play at that game," Spike growled as he tried to access Garcia's information, he kept getting blocked.

"Gonna have to try harder than that Spikey-muffins," Garcia grinned as she worked to keep him from hacking the system.

Jules sat in the hospital again, tired beyond belief, Anna had been sent to the psychiatric ward. She sighed as she waited in the waiting room, suddenly a cup of coffee was held out to her. She looked up and saw Greg standing there, "Tough day?"

"Yeah," Jules said sipping the coffee, "Good day though."

"You did a good job," Greg smiled and patted her on the back and smiled, "I taught you well."

Jules laughed in spite of herself, "Yeah, wish it could have ended better though."

"We do the best we can Jules," Greg pulled her into a half hug, "We always do."

"I know," Jules said as she leaned into Greg's hug, "I know."

"Anna's going to need you, you're going to have to support her," Greg said looking down at Jules's face, "Even I know that much."

A doctor walked into the waiting room, "Miss Callaghan?"

Jules stood up and walked out of the room with the doctor, ready to listen to what ever he told her.

_**Toronto Pearson International Airport, Toronto, Canada – 9:00 am**_

"So I guess we'll meet again?" JJ said hugging Sam tightly as her team prepared to leave, "And this time it will be sooner rather than later."

"Hopefully not under the same premise as this was," Sam chuckled as he shook hands with Hotchner, "I'm glad you could help us out sir."

Hotchner nodded, "I'm glad we could help."

Sam saw Emily about to leave, "Wait," he called to her and as she turned around Sam quickly said, "I'm sorry . . . you know, about yesterday. I didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's okay," Emily said, "I shouldn't have dug in the first place."

"I guess we're good on the awkward moments then," Sam said, laughing nervously, "It's just that the whole thing between me and my military life has been rough, being the son of a high profile General and-,"

"Wait, your father's _the_ General Braddock? The one who cussed out Ambassador Prentiss in a Middle East conference," Emily asked, surprised.

"That would be my dad, yes," Sam nodded uncomfortably, "Don't tell me you're Ambassador Prentiss's daughter . . ."

Emily nodded, Sam groaned, "Sorry about that, my dad's very blunt sometimes," he shook his head, "Let's keep this at a truce?"

"Truce," Emily said.

The team boarded the plane and Sam watched as it took off, "Ambassador Prentiss's daughter . . ." Sam chuckled to himself, "Small world."

On the plane, Emily was thinking the same thing as it ascended into the skies, going back home.

_In the end, revenge is as pointless as spitting into the wind. People get hurt, lives get ruined and all because of your spite and hatred for the world. Once forgiveness is chosen, the healing can finally begin . . . – Emily (aka, SAR132-4)_

**Just had to add that bit about Emily and Sam, two kids of high profile figures . . . how could they NOT have something potentially embarrassing and awkward happen? :D One more chapter after this! **


	12. Epilogue

_**Toronto Pearson International – 12:00 pm, 6 months later. **_

Sam stood at the airport gate, waiting, watching as innumerous amount of people came out and swarmed around him, "Come on," he said, "I know you're there . . ."

Finally, a woman with blond hair and blue eyes stepped out of the walkway, Sam waved, "Jenn!"

"Sam!" JJ ran over and they hugged each other, "Miss me that much in the past six months?"

"What can I say, I miss beating you at darts Jenn," Sam grinned as they walked to the baggage carousel, "How are things at Quantico?"

"Same thing, really," JJ said, "We catch the UnSubs and save people. How are things in the SRU?"

"We jump out of buildings, rescue hostages, talk down crazy bank robbers and keep the peace," Sam shrugged, he grinned, "Same old I guess."

They both shared a laugh as Sam helped her out with her bags, "You're staying for a week, yet you pack for a month," he said as he hoisted the bag into the back of his car, "How does that work?"

"Just because we pack up quick for work, doesn't mean we pack up quick for leisure," JJ answered as she hopped into the passenger's seat, Sam got into the driver's seat and pulled out of the parking space.

"You up for Timmies or something a little stronger?" Sam asked as he pulled onto the Gardiner Expressway, they entered the flow of traffic smoothly.

"It's only noon Sam," JJ retorted, laughing.

Sam nodded, "Then Timmies it is," he said exiting onto Yonge Street and headed to downtown Toronto.

They drove through the streets that, a few weeks ago, were filled with protesters dressed in black and destroying everything. It seemed more peaceful now as people milled about on the sidewalks and ran across the streets as they went on their daily errands. Sam pulled up to the sidewalk and they walked over to the Timmies, now reopened.

"To think a few weeks ago my team and I were on standby incase the riot police failed," Sam shook his head, "It was insane."

"I saw the news footage of that," JJ said, "Your team made it out alright?"

"We made it out," Sam nodded, "No major injuries and we only got called out once when a protestor took it too far. It was a pretty easy call."

They bought their coffees and sat at a table next to the picture window that overlooked the street. Sam sipped his coffee and asked, "How's everyone doing in the US?"

"Great, we just wrapped up a case," JJ said as she looked over at Sam, "Garcia keeps video conferencing with Spike and . . ." the blonde laughed, "Emily's wondering how you are."

"Really," Sam snorted, "I've seen Spike online chatting with her during breaks," Sam paused thoughtfully, "As for Emily . . . tell her I'm fine and give her my phone number."

"If you two _do_ get together . . ." JJ began, "What about your parents?"

"We'll figure something out," Sam grinned.

"How are your guys doing? How's Anna?" JJ asked as Sam took a deep gulp of his double double.

Sam took a deep breath, "Well . . ." he began thoughtfully.

_**Saint James Cemetery, Toronto, Ontario – 1:00 pm**_

Anna stood at the grave of her father and mother, leaving behind flowers for both of them, "I really miss you guys," she said with tears in her eyes, "Aunt Jules has been really nice to me. School hasn't been too bad and I've been getting straight 'A's," she placed her hand on her father's headstone, "I hope you're doing well, where ever you are."

A slight breeze picked up and Anna could smell the scent of flowers from the garden in the cemetery. She looked up at the cloudless sky as a few tears ran down her cheeks, Jules came up, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Anna answered as she wiped her eyes, "Fine."

Jules patted Anna on the back before bowing her head and saying a silent prayer, '_Sorry Chris, sorry it had to end like this. I'm taking good care of Anna, like you asked me to, I'm still surprised you asked me to take care of Anna. After all we've been through in high school, the hours of endless torturing I gave you in my teen years, I thought you'd think of me as the last person to take care of Anna. But I'm glad you wanted me to . . ._'

Jules looked up at Chris's headstone, it was the normal set up with the name and dates. Below it was an inscription, "He protected life at the cost of his own".

Jules turned around and patted Anna on the back, "Come on kiddo," she said, walking with the teen out of the cemetery. On the way out, they passed by Lou's grave, a pot of flowers placed right next to the headstone.

**And thus, the fiction ends . . . **

**Usually I'd feel something right about now, some sort of nostalgia or ruefulness that I finished this kick ass fiction. But right now, all I'm thinking is that my roommate should seriously stop laughing so weirdly . . . **

**Anyway, the talk down of Anna in chapter 10 was vaguely connected to my own struggles with depression. The worst low happened at around March, I really was ready to commit suicide. What kept me from it was my trip to Toronto and the support from my sister who went through the same thing. So yes, this fiction did mean a lot to me. **

**Anyway, this is the end of 10108, I plan to write for this crossover section in the future once my brain recovers from this. I'm planning on updates of Loose Ends and Breaking Point. **

**Happy writing, **

**SAR**


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